


Kindness

by yulival



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: F/M, Feminine Pronouns for Reader, Reader is human, Reader-Insert, Reader-Interactive, Russia x Reader, both country and human names used, occasional language
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-24
Updated: 2016-09-28
Packaged: 2018-06-10 11:26:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 19,895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6954595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yulival/pseuds/yulival
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“That man doesn’t deserve any of your kindness.”</p><p>She vowed that she would prove them wrong.</p><p> <br/>--Russia x Reader. An ongoing series that will be continued with positive feedback. Thank you for your time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Kindness -- the First

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **EDIT 21 March 2017** I finally got around to fixing some parts that were bugging me! No worries, it doesn't changing anything drastically at all, but I feel a lot better now. Thank you, and I hope you enjoy!

     “Seriously? All of these?”

     “All of these,” (Name’s) coworker, Amira, confirmed grimly. The metal fixtures of the jumbo bookcart creaked as she put her weight into it to inch it towards (Name). “Gotta be shelved today.”

     (Name) couldn’t stifle the exasperated groan that came out. Normally, this wouldn’t be a problem. It was her job, after all, a job which she enjoyed and wished to earn her wage. But they were alarmingly short-staffed today, near half of the crew at home with the new virus going around, which meant that there were a lot of tasks that could only be performed by certain employees left unfulfilled. Generally, if something just had to be completed, it would fall to the next most-qualified. Which in this case, was not qualified in the least.

     “Amira, doesn’t the Man know that I don’t know Russian?” the Man was their ever-affectionate nickname for their store manager. They also used Manny, but not within earshot.

     “He knows that you know Cyrillic,” Amira rolled her eyes, “and that’s enough for him.”

     “B-but,” (Name) sputtered, frantic, “can’t he wait for someone to come back? I can’t do this! Cory knows Russian, and he should be back tomorrow!” Hell, Cory could do Kyrgyzstani if the Emporium carried books in it. It seemed ridiculous that their fussy manager couldn’t wait one more day for their linguistic savant to return!

     Amira sighed pitiably at her coworker’s desperate expression. “I’m really sorry, (Name), but you’ll have to take it up with Manny. I’ve got Spanish storytime circle in five,” she keyed the storeroom door open and sent a reassuring smile over her shoulder, gesturing to her headset. “Just tap in if you need anything.”

     “Right,” (Name) muttered half-heartedly, and stared at the cartload before her. What was she going to do now? She really should confront the Manager and insist that the shelving for this shipment should wait another day. It was a reasonable request, but the Man wasn’t especially reasonable right now. The block next door was experiencing renovations which brought up heated conflicts over property boundaries and working contracts. Plus, he had to deal with the plans for the minor but over-hyped repairs on floor five. All that factored in with a sudden premature harshness in weather made for a very short-fused Manny.

     So which one: insisting that the job was done right, and facing the wrath of the man, or putting her shoulder to the wheel and doing her best with what she had? (Name) thought of Mr. Lukas and all that he had done for her. She groaned. She had to repay him somehow, so no use getting fired now. With a solid shove, she got the trolley rolling ahead of her and made her way to the service elevator.

 

~~~ 

 

     Before she had even reached the Russian floor, (Name) could tell that this was going to go poorly. She couldn’t use the storeroom elevator because it was out-of-order, and once she lugged the enormous cart over to a normal elevator, she remembered that this particular shaft only went up to floor three because of the repairs. So then she pushed the cart all-the-way-a-cross the store to another one, which brought her up to the completely _wrong_ side of floor six. Halfway through Ukrainian and Bulgarian she was becoming confused as to what language she was even searching for!

     Finally, she slumped into an armchair near something she recognised: Толстой—Tolstoy. Only when she dared peek out between her fingers that covered her face did she notice the labels on the book cart. Slips of paper were often tucked between sections of books to notify the genre they were to be shelved it. However, these paperslips were in the language respective to the books they labeled, which meant that they were in Russian, and that (Name) couldn’t read them. Not only couldn’t she tell the titles from the authors, she didn’t even know which shelves to set them down at!

     Taking this special time to revel in her misfortune (bad weather seemed to encourage that), (Name) didn’t move from the armchair for many more minutes. Finally, she heaved a long, calming sigh. Okay, maybe she was exaggerating this. Even if this was just a bookstore, this was the Emporium, a powerful force in the printing and book mongering business that stored thousands upon thousands of books in dozens of languages in each shop. This meant that, as an Emporium employee, she was a very qualified translator. And you get to be a translator by being resourceful. (Name) could do this. Setting her jaw and brightening her resolve, she jumped up from the cushy armchair and looked around. The genres were labeled with plaques on the walls, after all, so she could easily match the plaques to the paperslips in the bookcart. And even if she only knew enough Russian to communicate that she didn’t know Russian, she could sound out Cyrillic just fine. Surely she could differentiate title from author and shelve them in alphabetical order by author’s last name, as they should be. In any light, it was worth a shot. She struggled to throw her weight against the immobile bookcart, and wheeled it over to the nearest genre.

     After locating the paperslip in her book cart that corresponded to the plaque on the wall (Name) snatched up a tome and attempted to decode its sleeve. She gulped. Oh, this was harder than she remembered. It really shouldn’t be, Cyrillic was a phonetic alphabet after all. However, this attempt quickly degenerated into an exercise of the-bigger-words-are-probably-the-title-right-let’s-go-with-that. At least she could easily shelve any novels that already had some of their siblings on display. Although it was really embarrassing to have to sing the Russian alphabet song under her breath to remember the letter order.

     Another twenty minutes and (Name) was sure she had miss-shelved at least fifteen different novels, plus their duplicates. Needless to say, she soon retreated to her armchair to agonise over the next possible turn of events. Her shift ended in thirty minutes, she still had seven-eighths of the book trolley to shelve, and she wasn’t getting paid for overtime. This was hopeless. Maybe if all the books had magically disappeared within the five minutes she had spent in this chair she could go home on time.. She took a peek. Nope, no such luck. But before she could collapse again, something caught her eye: someone was standing near the shelves she was just working on, browsing. She nearly brushed it off, but then paused. Someone was browsing. In the Russian wing of the store.

      _He knew Russian_.

     Within in a blink of an eye, (Name) found herself standing right beside this stranger. She hadn’t remembered getting up from the chair or approaching him, so needless to say she was quite surprised. Even greater was her surprise when she found the hem of the stranger’s coat sleeve clasped in her fingers. She naturally looked up to see this face of this man (and she had to look up) to find that he was just as startled as she was.

     “Ah-h,” (Name) stammered immediately. Clearing her throat, she put on an apologetic grin. “ _Izvinitye_ ,” she enunciated carefully, slowly, “ _V_ _wi gavaritye pa-russki, da?_ ”

     “Ah-h,” his voice came out timid and soft, strange for such a large man. It made him seem fragile, as if the deepness of his voice could shatter his immense body. He seemed strong enough and right enough, but his lavender eyes served a curtain to the most intense loneliness (Name) had ever seen. Life hadn’t treated this man well, she could tell. Which made her feel all the worse for pestering him. One of his large, gloved hands went to the long, pink scarf about his neck, gripping it in a comforting sort of way. “ _Da, pochyemu?_ ”

     (Name) licked her lips nervously, trying to summon up the vocabulary from a distant past. “ _V-vwi panimayu pa-angliski?_ ”

     “ _Da_. Ah, I mean, yes,” he responded positively. He hesitated. “I know english. But speak it, I do not do well.”

     (Name) inwardly sighed in relief. Her smile brightened, which seem to startle him even more. “What are you talking about? You sound great!”

     He blinked at her, blushing out of embarrassment, she thought. He averted his eyes and hitched up his scarf to hide it. “You are a kind girl.”

     “No, sir, I am honest,” she smiled brightly at him, and he jerked slightly in surprise. She faltered. Was it her kindness he flinched from? How could such a thing surprise someone? Before she could dwell upon this discovery, (Name) recalled her purpose in calling out to him. “I really am so sorry to bother you, sir,” she glanced up shyly, presenting the hardcover novel clutched in her other hand, wrapped in a bright, glossy jacket. “Could you please inform me which words are the author’s name?”

     His eyes slid to the book. “The silver letters. It’s Sergei Lukyaneko. Book in English is called, ah, night…Nightwatch.”

     Her whole face lit up. “Thank you! So that’s…that’s under ‘el’!” her eyes hurriedly scanned the shelves for the л-section, but to no avail. Ah, where was it in the alphabet?”

     “Right over there,” the man’s soft voice came. “It is after ‘ka’.”

     (Name)’s eyes rested upon a plaque marked ‘л’ a few feet away. “Oh! Thank you.” She moved to restore the book, but her movement was restrained. She looked back in surprise to find that her fingers were still clutching his sleeve. “Oh. Sorry.” They held awkward eye contact for a few painful moments before she released him and turned to the л-shelf to mask her embarrassment. He just stood there, unsure of what to think of that.

     “There!” (Name) hopped up, beaming. “And that means I can shelve its duplicates as well! Ah, where are they…” there were a dozen copies to be shelved, and (Name) traveled between the bookcart and the л-shelf several times, a cheery skip in her step now that she knew that at least one novel was properly put away. As she did this, the stranger stood off to the side still, awkward and feeling misplaced, for he did not know what to do, but his curiosity won out against his fear and he said something.

      “If you do not know Russian, then why is it that you do such a task?”

     “Oh, well, I’ve been meaning to take Russian classes,” she replied absently as she went about arranging the display. “But I do work many full shifts here, and I’ve still just been in this country for a few months, so it's still pretty new and everything is different. Life is just a little busy right now.” She laughed. “I guess you could say that I’m incompetent!”

     “Not so!” he shook his head vehemently. “You work here; you are bright, smart girl. Why did person above you give you this task?”

     (Name) turned in surprise. He stood with arms crossed, voice a little firmer now. Why was he so concerned over her? “It’s kind of complicated, actually, but we’re really short on staff which is the main reason, and I do know some Cyrillic, so…”

     The man was now frowning most intensely. “Person above you is silly. These books will be here always. They should be nice to workers under them.”

     (Name) flushed self-consciously. “Aw, it’s not like that,” she said nervously, glancing about to see if the Man was around. “Our manager has been under a lot of pressure right now. He’s has reason to work us hard.”

     “But if you do not do this, he will be angry, and if you do this and are wrong, he will be angry still. This is not nice thing to do to a good worker.” He huffed a little in a small steam, and (Name) suppressed a giggle. What a kind man to be upset for her. She shook her head kindly and looked forlornly to her book cart.

     “It’s my job, sir. Nothing I can do. I just have to buck up and--”

     “Strugatsky.”

     “Eh?” She turned back to him to find that in one of his glove hands outstretched was a book in a lemon-yellow jacket, black words printed across it boldly. “This will go under ‘ess’ for Strugatsky. There are three others like it right here.” He averted his eyes at her questioning gaze, and hitched up his scarf again. “Ah, I will tell you the name and you can put it in its home. That way you are doing job without doing wrong.”

     (Name)’s eyes went wide and she began stammering again. “B-but, sir, it _is_ my job, I cannot inconvenience a customer--”

     “There is no inconvenience where there is will to do something. You are a person hardworking and kind to strangers, and I want to help you. If that is okay,” he added, his voice and posture regressing to its initial fragile state.

      (Name) paused, tilting her head as she studied him. In one second, he had gone to firm and strong, determined in himself, to becoming feeble and afraid. As he held the book for her, (Name) noticed something in the hesitation of his arm. He was not afraid of her touch; he was afraid to let her near him. He hid under his layers of coats and scarves to distance himself from everyone as much as possible. This was why he was so confused at her simple greetings and affirmations; he couldn’t understand why he deserved such kindness. (Name) didn’t really much wonder what made him think himself so undeserving. She just saw how much sorrow hid behind his eyes and decided that kindness was definitely what he needed, and that allowing him to perform this small gesture might be some sort of kindness to him.

     (Name) gently received the book from his hand. “…Strugatsky, you said?”

     In a moment of stunned silence, he seemed to fill with colour. His protective timidity melted away for the first time that (Name) saw, he smiled, an action that made his eyes sparkle. “Y-yes, Strugatsky, I say.”

     “Thank you,” she took up the extra copies and gave him the warmest smile she could, “very much.”

     His face filled with red and there was nothing he could do with his scarf to hide it this time. “Th-this next one is ‘geh’ for Glukhousky,” he said after a time.

     “Thanks,” she rose to take the next book he held. “And what next?”

     “ ‘Veh’ for Voinovich.”

     “Thanks, got it. Oh man, this one has, like, twenty copies…”

     Before (Name) could do anything, two large arms appeared to scoop up the volumes she needed in one move. Shocked, she looked up to see a round face peeking out from behind the tower of tomes. “This good?”

     “Y-yeah, right over here. Yeah, right there. Thanks. Wow. Uh, thank you.” She stepped out of the way and let the looming man set down and gently put away the load.

     He smiled again, a new warmth in his eyes. “ _Nye za chto_.” (Name) wasn’t sure what to do. But she was glad that he was happy. He seemed happy, anyways. He was colourful and cheerful, and as they spent more and more time together trying to get all the books set in their rightful places, (Name) found that he was the friendliest, gentlest person that she had ever met. After some gentle pressing, he was quite talkative, describing in vivid detail his home country when she inquired, and he listened thoughtfully to her struggles with this new job, all the while instructing her in where the correct places to set books were and even transporting the too-heavy book trolley for her as they navigated between the different genres.

     “Ah! The last ones! We are done!” he straightened up from shelving, smiling like sunshine. He suddenly frowned. “Why is it that Pasternak is under ‘beh’?” he inquired, turning to her in confusion.

     (Name) looked up and recognised the book he was pointing at. “Oh! I, uh,” she grinned sheepishly. “I tried to shelve some on my own before I found you.”

     The man blinked once and then laughed. It was a gentle sound. “Oh! You are funny. But it is alright, we can fix it. Put in under ‘peh’.”

     (Name) received the novel with a thank you and went in pursuit of the п-shelf while he began sorting books into piles according to the letter they were to be stored under. It took her quite a while to find this shelf, and the man noticed this, for he turned to look for her. She was staring up. A low chuckle began in his chest as he rose to assist. “You cannot reach, yes?” He gently removed the tome from her small hands and easily set it upon the topmost shelf.

     (Name) laughed in spite of herself. “You know, normally I would have had to search half this place for a stool before I could do that.” Something nagged at the back of her mind, like something she had forgotten, but she couldn’t quite reach it. “Are those the last ones? Okay, there’s an elevator on the other side of this floor! We need to take the trolley there. Oh, uh, I guess that it’s light enough for me to take myself, now.”

     “No worries. I have got it.”

     “Really? You sure? Thank you!”

     Soon, they were side-by-side in the elevator. (Name) was humming to herself, absolutely elated that her job had been completed efficiently and correctly. The man just stood to the side staring at her, so, so happy that he had brought someone any sort of joy. (Name) sighed happily, unable to contain herself, and smiled up to him.

     “Man, you’re a real lifesaver. I would’ve spent hours trying to do that by myself--” she stopped suddenly, blinked and gasped. He jumped, looking a little frightened. “What is wrong?” he said nervously.

     She turned to him with wide eyes. “I have not introduced myself! Here you are, someone kind enough to help me out and I have not even learned your name! Oh my gosh, I am so rude, I am so sorry, oh my gosh!” she sputtered, her face flushing as she became more flustered. She performed a sort of awkward curtsy-bow in the cramped quarters. “I am (Name)(Surname)! Thank you so much for helping me!” As she tried to regain some sort of composure, she felt a large hand settle on her head. The touch calmed her immediately. She looked up and his smiling face greeted her.

     “I am Ivan Braginsky.” He said, patting her head a few times comfortingly. That name sounded familiar… “And I’m just glad that you allowed me to do such a thing for you. No one has spoken like this to me for a long, long time.”

     She couldn’t help it—her face flushed. “I, um, well,” at a loss for words, she just smiled and shrugged. “…I’m glad that you’re happy--” at that moment her eyes caught the digital clock installed in the elevator. “—I am so dead.”

     “Eh?” Ivan tilted his head in confusion and looked behind him. He understood. “Were you supposed to meet someone?” his voice worried a bit, and (Name) was quick to reassure him.

     “Normally I take the train back home, but my friends that I live with had business in the city, so they suggested that we would all go home together, and, um,” she gulped. “Technically my shift ended an hour ago. Which I don’t really think that they’ll be angry about, they’ll just be mostly worried. They always worry, you know? Especially Mr. Lukas,” she continued to chatter nervously. “He’s the one who allowed me to move in with them, so I always do my best not to inconvenience him. We agreed to meet at the café down the street, but maybe they decided to come here--”

     “Excuse me,” Ivan’s voice was shaky. “Did you say Lukas?”

     (Name) looked up at him in surprise. All of the joy had drained from his face, leaving his visage ashen. “I…yes. And Mathias and Emil. We live together,” she said cautiously. To her horror, Ivan shrunk back even further inside himself than when she first saw him.

      “N...Lukas, a-and Mathias?" he began to shake. “Coming here, they are?" his voice whispered. They made eye contact and there was the worst sort of fear in his now-dull eyes.

     “Ivan, what’s wrong?” (Name) took his hand in both of her own, serious concern instilling fear in her voice. He didn’t reply. “It’s going to be okay. What’s wrong?”

     They reached the first floor. The elevator opened.

     “HEY (NAME)!” (Name) turned to see Mathias, her most rambunctious housemate, bounding toward her, his trademark grin and recklessness greeting her like always. “You’ve got to go console Lukas, he’s nearly ready to tear something apart, since you didn't even reply to your texts--” but then his clear blue eyes slid to the companion beside her, and he came to a dead stop. His composure changed so suddenly that (Name) flinched. Who was this man in front of her, his face as dark as a warrior’s preparing to protect his village? Surely, that wasn’t Mathias.

     “What,” his voice came out as a low growl, “the _hell_ are you doing here.” It wasn’t a question. It was a challenge.

     Ivan, trembling more than ever, discreetly disengaged her hand from his. “I was about to leave,” his voice was different. It wasn’t weak, but it certainly wasn’t like his strong, happy voice. It hid him, just like his layers of clothing did. “They did not have the book I was looking for.”

     “Don’t try any of that, _bastard_ ,” Mathias snarled, drawing himself even taller than before to look Ivan dead in the eye. Ivan met his gaze and did not blink. “Why the _hell_ are you here.”

     (Name) looked between the two men in appalled confusion. What was going on? She attempted to step between the two in order to intercept the Dane’s damaging glares. “Mathias, what on earth are you doing--”

     Before she could even blink, Mathias had swiftly pulled her behind him as to shield her from her newfound friend. His grip was firm on her wrist, determined not to let go. She stared at it bewildered. Mathias was never so protective. Only an attack from a wild bear could bring such behaviour from him, she thought. What was going on? This was bad. And, she thought as her stomach twisted at the sound of approaching footsteps, she had a feeling that things were about to get a lot worse.

     “(Name), thank Gods, I was so worried—what the _hell_ ,” Lukas hissed at the sight of Ivan in the doorway. “Why— _how_ \--” he quickly took her by the waist and whisked her several meters away from the offending person. “How did he figure out she was here?” he called out to Mathias, his voice dangerously sharp.

     (Name), too bewildered to even be angry, whipped her head all around in order to figure out what was going on. Lukas was afflicted with the same stolid determination to protect that afflicted Mathias, and looking to the side, she even saw that her best friend Emil was trembling in shock, a rage beginning to build up beneath his skin.

     “Seriously," the dark man that was supposed to be Mathias said, taking a threatening step forward. “Can’t you go one day without causing trouble?" 

     “Of course. Yesterday was fine,” Ivan said calmly. “The plane ride here was very lovely.”

     (Name)’s eyes widened at the scene unfolding before her, what Lukas said barely registered in her ears. “What?” she said stupidly. “We’re going home?”

     “Yes. _Now_.” Lukas’ hard voice confirmed. Arm still around her waist, clutching so hard it _hurt_ , he immediately began walking her to the entrance to the dark dusk outside. She blinked, unable to absorb this all so suddenly.

     “But—Ivan—Emil, what’s going on--” Emil had no answer for her, his initial anger wearing off so that he looked just as bewildered. Lukas’s command rung out again.

    “We’re _going_ , (Name).”

    This was wrong. Through all the confusion that’s what pounded in (Name)’s head. This was wrong. They were wrong. Why were they dragging her away? why were they so angry? They and Ivan knew each other, obviously, but how? Why? Couldn’t they calm down and explain!! She trusted her friends, but there was no reason to treat Ivan so harshly when she just _met_ him. (Name) knew how to recognise bad apples, even the pretty-looking ones, but Ivan’s civility had been _genuine_. They were overreacting. _Why were they overreacting?_  

    Right then Lukas looked back at her with his eyes glinting through the darkness, and he said something. As he said it, (Name) vowed that she would prove him wrong.

    “That man doesn’t deserve any of your kindness.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hei hei! This is the first chapter of an ongoing series I have. I have been on a very long hiatus, but since I recently got chapter five under way, I thought I'd post the first here to see how it would do. I know Reader-insert writers are generally treated as trash, but this series is very precious to me, and would love it if you enjoyed it too <3
> 
> Here are some author notes from when it was originally published, if anyone is confused. I'm not sure if they're necessary or not.
> 
>  
> 
> Reader-chan lives in Norway with Norge, Danmark, and Iceland at this time  
> Yes, they are countries. This is not human AU.  
> ...But Reader-chan isn't allowed to know that.  
> The "business in the city" is--you guessed it--a world meeting.  
> Which is why people who shouldn't be in Norway are there  
> IT MAKES SENSE
> 
> oh and Amira and Cory are just NPC's I made up. They're pretty cool.
> 
>  
> 
> ALSO LANGUAGE NOOOOOTE~
> 
> I wanted to romanise the Russian because when it's in Cyrillic it often breaks the flow of the read!  
> HOWEVER I did not romanise it letter-for-letter! I just wrote it out it acutally sounds, so I dropped lots of y's and added more y's in, and changed a's to o's and o's to a's and things like that. So most of these aren't romanised conventionally. I just wanted it so everyone could read it! Because I love you all! (awwwww) >>
> 
> Ah, it's embarrassing to re-read notes from so long ago. Anyways, I hope you enjoy. Please tell me if you would like to see more!
> 
>  
> 
> Chapter originally finished 16 April 2015.


	2. Silence -- the Second

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ***EDIT 21 March 2017*** Fixed more stuff that was bothering me! Again, nothing that changes the course of anything, just the tone. Please enjoy!

     The time was midnight of Friday morning. The scene was the ground floor, in the half-lit kitchen. A single lamp swaying above a kitchen table illuminated the motionless cast below. Four people in the kitchen, and all was dead silent.

     Norway, seated at the kitchen table, was the perfect picture of calm. Not a strand of hair or a fold of clothing was out of place as he gazed leisurely upon the newspaper spread before him. His features were stolid as always, not betraying any straying thoughts or emotions he might contain. However, the page didn’t turn, not once in thirty minutes, not even crinkling like it might if he was browsing the articles. Which he wasn’t. His sharpened eyes were fixed upon a single point in the print.

     Denmark sat across from him, but with his normally shining azure eyes churning in a clouded storm he did not look like Denmark. His bright, cheerful visage had been traded in for one darkened with thought and shut tight to visitors. Even his posture repelled contact as he hunched over himself, elbows resting on the table, arms meeting to form a fist in front of his mouth to seal up the words that were surely on the brink of spilling out. His eyelids twitched as he fought to keep his eyes to the table only. His broad shoulders rose and fell steadily as he practised breathing.

     Iceland wasn’t quite as reserved as his Nordic brothers. He could hardly keep from fidgeting uncomfortably, darting between the other three members. His lips trembled under the pressure of a geyser of unasked questions. But he did his best not to interrupt the silence, remaining still as possible at his post half-leaning, half-hiding behind the column separating the kitchen and the living room, hands shoved deep into his pockets. His phone kept buzzing worriedly, but he made no move to answer it.

     (Name) was not only the most upset of all of them but also the one exhibiting the most self-control, alarming since she was still so visibly upset. She had adapted a casual posture to prevent tension from building, but her entire body was shaking subtly with as a rage that none of them had ever witnessed of her before simmering just beneath her skin. It was clear she was trying everything to maintain a calm; she kept gulping back the outbursts rising in her throat, her nails dug into her forearms, and her lips were ready to crack open from the constant chewing. All the while her eyes switched rapidly between the two seated men, charged with a frightening intensity as she searched for any shred of explanation in their guarded expressions.

     Each was frozen like actors on their marks, awaiting the rise of the curtain, but such an easy relief would never come. The buzz in the air was not from applause, but from a potent mixture of fear and fury. This was no play.

     “Well?” (Name’s) hardened voice disrupted the frenzied silence. No reply dared come forth to meet her. She grit her teeth. “Could you _please_ explain to me your behaviour from earlier?”

     Denmark would’ve laughed in any other situation. She said please! Even in this calamity, she said please. No matter what, their (Name) was sure to be polite. His hands tightened their grip on each other. He wanted to explain to her everything. He wanted to tell her every detail of their experiences, to show her how they were fighting to protect her from something awful. But, no, they had broken enough rules allowing her, a human, to live with them. It was chaos in the world meeting when they were found out. They should’ve been more careful—if they hadn’t been found out maybe—how on earth had he found her…?

     “There is nothing to explain,” Norway’s chilled voice rang against the hard walls.

     Iceland had never seen (Name’s) eyes burn like that before. “What do you mean ‘nothing to explain’?!! Did you even _see_ yourselves!! You nearly, like, like…” she was at a loss for words in her fury. “… _attacked_ Ivan!”

     “Do _not_ call him by his first name.” Lukas’s grip on his newspaper tightened.

     “I’ll call him whatever I feel like! I just met him, I see no reason why he can't be my friend!”

     “He is _not_ your friend,” Lukas straightened his newspaper. Denmark noted that despite the firmness of his voice, he didn’t have the guts to look at her.

     “Since when do you get to have a say in that?!”

     “Since always. You will not talk to him. Understand?”

     “Lukas--!”

     “ _Norge_ , is this really necessary?” Denmark muttered from the corner of his mouth in his mother tongue.

     “You _know_ what he did,” Norway hissed back, also in Danish. “We can’t trust him. Imagine what would happen if he got ahold of her…”

     “For the love of— _guys_ , you know that I know Danish!!” (Name) was exasperated.

     “Wait,” (Name) turned at the sound of Emil’s voice. A disgusted look was on his face. “Is that what this is about? Guys, look, I get why you're mad, but that was so long ago. Leave (Name) alone, _Christ_.” He shook his head, heading for the hallway. "I am out of here.”

     A sudden anger flared up in Lukas. “Going to text that Leon brat again, I bet!”

     “Yeah, man, even _he’s_ better than this.” Emil shot back, his steps echoing up the staircase. They listened as the door of his bedroom closed with a loud thud.

     After some time, (Name) sighed and took a seat at the table, and equal distance between them. “Look, I’m really, like, really, upset with you guys, but a lot is going on, and I can’t really manage that right now,” she exhaled. “So, maybe instead you could explain some things for me. We can begin to sort things out, okay? I don't want to be at odds with either of you.”

     She looked between the two men hopefully. Lukas and Mathias glanced at her briefly, and Norway and Denmark met eyes for just a split second. Lukas sighed and folded his newspaper carefully. He wanted to read it through once all things were said and done. “What can we do to help?”

     (Name) relaxed, if only slightly. Maybe this could be alright. “First, can you tell me how you know Ivan? That was never really made clear to me.”

     Denmark’s eyes squeezed shut as he winced. _Crap_ , he knew how they had to answer that. Norway seemed to have the same sinking feeling. “Business,” the stolid man muttered, averting his eyes before giving (Name) a tight-lipped smile.

     (Name) groaned loudly, slumping back in her chair. “Ahh, yes. ‘Business’! The forbidden subject.”

     “Sorry.”

     “It’s…fine,” she gulped back frustration and straightened up. Deep breaths. Calm, (Name). “Then at least answer this: what did he do?”

     “What?”

     “What did Ivan,” she was sure to firmly say his first name, “Do to incur such freakish wrath from you guys?”

     Lukas closed his eyes. He took a deep breath. “I can’t tell you that.”

     “What?”

     “I mean I can’t. _Business_.”

     She stared at him. “Are you serious? I just…ahh…” (Name) put her face in her hands. Denmark’s heart broke at the sight of her.

     After a time she dropped her hands. “Well,” she inhaled and began to stand. “Since I have no reason to doubt him, and plenty of reason to doubt _you_ , I will continue to converse with him if I ever see him around. Good day, thank you for your patience--”

     “You will not go near him.” Lukas snapped, surprising all three of them.

     Her eyes narrowed. “Then tell me why.”

     “You know I can’t!”

     “No, I don’t!” (Name’s) voice rose. “It’s always secrecy with you guys! You never tell me _what_ you’re up to, _why_ you went out, _when_ you’ll be back, _why_ you’re always up so late working, _who_ you’re meeting with, and now you’re giving me rules that not only am I not permitted to have say in, you’ve refused me your reasons!” she slammed her hands onto the kitchen table. “You are kind for allowing me to live here, but a certain consideration is required! What is going on?!!” Something in Lukas snapped.

     “That man is a monster!” he yelled leaping up, a murderous glint in his eyes. “And you will stay away from him!” But then his anger-clouded eyes cleared and he saw (Name).

     She looked terrified. Recoiled from her previous confident stance, her hovered in front of her, separating her from him. Her wide eyes held an unhealthy amount of fear and uncertainty and he could hear her fast, uneven breaths. Norway blinked. Numbly, he looked to Denmark. For the first time, Denmark had moved, and held a similar wide-eyed expression, although it held more disbelief than fear. The Dane shook his head subtly as if he was thinking _what the actual hell did you just do_. Norway turned back to (Name), her eyes brimming with tears now. He gulped. “That is all that you need to know.” His voice finished, shakily. There was a long silence.

     (Name) left the kitchen.

 

~~~

 

      Iceland was pretty sure something was wrong. The first thing he did upon entering his bedroom was turn the dubstep _way_ up, because he had a feeling that yelling was going to happen, and he didn’t want any part of that. He felt really bad for abandoning his best friend when Big Brother was all reared up and ready to attack like that, but that was Norway in his protectiveness hyperdrive, and the presence of his previous little brother would only intensify the situation and make things worse for (Name).

     About half an hour later he heard footsteps lead to (Name’s) room. This was a bad sign. (Name) was someone who set her feet down very carefully, and normally it was near impossible to hear her approach. Audible footsteps meant that something was definitely wrong. What had his dense brother done now? After a ten-minute buffer period, Iceland clicked the stereo remote mute button, got off from his bed, left his room, and cautiously approached (Name’s) bedroom door.

     He knocked. “Hey.” There wasn’t an answer. “Hey, (Name)?” Silence. “Yo. Candygram.”

     A feeble response sounded. “You better have some actual candy or I am going to rip your head off.”

     “No, you won’t.”

     “You’re right. I’ll just cry in your general direction. Get in here already.”

     Smiling softly to himself, he gently turned the doorknob and slipped inside, closing the door behind him. (Name) was curled up on her bed, face buried in a pillow she was clutching. She didn’t budge at his arrival, not that he expected her to. He just calmly moved to roll onto the bed beside her. He laid down, staring up at the ceiling. They remained like that for a long while. (Name) was the first to speak.

     “…So, who’s Leon?”

     “No one. Do I need to get you more tissues?”

     “Nah, I’m done crying. You left me in here for ten minutes, jerk.”

     “When you’re upset, you’ve gotta be upset. Are you going to stop suffocating yourself with that pillow?”

     “No. It’s happy in here.”

     “Did Lukas yell?”

     “Yeah,” he heard a soft chuckle. “I don’t know why I’m so upset over this. I mean, I know they must be...concerned...for a valid reason. I trust them. I trust all you guys, you know? But...I've never seen them like that. It _scared_ me."

     Iceland sighed. “Yeah, he has a way of doing that.”

     “Doing what?”

     “Caring too much. Probably my fault. Long story.”

     “So being angry at him kind of makes me the bad guy, huh?”

     “I wouldn’t say that,” (Name) peeked over the edge of her pillow at this comment to look at him. Her eyes were swollen and red. Iceland smiled at her. “He’s being a huge jerk about all of this. But some of what he says is true.”

     (Name) rolled onto her back to stare at the ceiling with Emil. She really didn’t want to talk about this anymore, but she knew that Emil would calm her. He always did. They got along like that. “Like what?”

     “Mr. Braginsky did do some pretty awful things. I can’t tell you what. I really wish I could, (Name), and I’m sorry.” (Name) just nodded. “But…it was such a long time ago that things happened. I know I’m younger than the others in our…business, but I feel that a lot of it should be in the past by now. But it’s really conflicting because, like,” he shook his head. “At the same time I really _don’t_ want you to be around Mr. Braginsky, either. It scares me, a little, (Name). Acting like jerks set aside, they _are_ acting like this because they love you.”

     “Yeah,” she conceded a little grimly. “So is it wrong if I don't shun Ivan if or when I see him again?”

     “I seriously don’t know.”

     “Well thanks, Em.”

     “Hey, I could’ve just stayed in my room.”

     She began to laugh, but as her eyes crinkle in merriment, she felt how the skin still burned from the salinity. She sobered up. “But seriously, man, what should I do.”

     “You go to bed.”

     “No, seriously.”

     “I am serious! You have work tomorrow. Well, technically you have work _today_.”

     (Name) turned her head slightly to view the brightly-coloured digital clock. One-oh-five. “Oops,” she chuckled, but then her eyes widened with a sudden revelation. “Hey, Emil?”

     “Yeah?”

     “…Think Ivan will come to the bookstore tomorrow?”

     She heard him sigh deeply. “(Name), I doubt it. I don’t know what went on in there after we left with Lukas, but I don’t think it was good. Whether he wants to or not, Mr. Braginsky is going to steer clear for a while.” Her heart sank. “But,” (Name) looked to him curiously. He was hesitating in the doorway, his back to her. “If you're worrying if he's okay, there’s really nothing keeping you from looking for _him._  Unless you’re going to let Lukas scare you. I guess what I’m saying is,” he glanced behind him. “It’s your move, (Name).”

     He shut the door.

 

~~~

 

     Downstairs the scene continued.

     “Norge, we messed up.”

     “No. It’s for her own good. She’ll thank us someday.”

     “Or she’ll hate us.”

     Norway put down his newspaper.

     The kitchen was silent again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I remember I wrote this one in two days. I was so excited! And it officially made my first series! Well, okay, it’s still my only series. But I’m still just a beginner. I hope to writes lots more of many things! Oh, and here’s another author’s note from the original publication that again, I’m not sure if it’s necessary or not:
> 
> NOTE: the characters are indeed nations and not humans, but reader-chan is unaware of this. So the characters referring to each other by nation names are not mistakes, it's just that it occurs in a moment where the omniscient third person focuses on their thoughts, and not reader-chan's. (I hope I said that right). 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed! Leave a comment or kudos if it pleases you <3
> 
> Originally finished 4 May 2015.


	3. Thinking of You -- the Third

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ***EDIT 21 March 2017*** Most of this chapter was fine! Only changed a few things. Please enjoy!

     Russia liked getting to the world conferences early. It was nice. He had the entire room to himself, even if it was only for a few minutes. The silence of a room waiting patiently for its occupants was reassuring, somehow. Vast whiteboard wiped pristine, blinds risen to let in gentle morning light, place settings carefully arranged in front of pushed-in chairs…everything sitting neat and unspoiled was just so uplifting, like it was confirming that it was a new day, and yesterday was long forgotten and forgiven. It was his private affirmation that with a new dawn came a chance to try and make things right.

     But then someone would inevitably come in and see him, and then that look would flash across their face and frightened eyes, like _oh God not you again, why is he here, why does he have to be here_ , and that was when he would remember that no, nothing has changed, today will be the same as yesterday. You can’t change anything, Ivan, you can’t change, you can never change what you’ve—

     Russia drew a flask from a hidden pocket in his long overcoat in one practised motion and knocked a swig of vodka back. Ah. That was better. It’s okay, Ivan. You’re okay.

      Like clockwork, somebody pushed the creaking door open, and Russia was reviewing his notes from the conference’s first and previous day. He didn’t have to look up to know who it was. By this time he had learned how to recognise everyone’s different glares, for it varied from person to person, country to country. He calmly flipped through the pages as Norway and Denmark entered quietly and quickly, taking two seats at the furthest possible point from him. Yes, nothing has changed.

     Nations gradually filed in, arriving in groups and packs. They all chose seats apart from Russia, but he was not surprised. The other part he enjoyed about coming early is that he didn’t have to ruin anyone’s day by surprising them with being their neighbour for the duration of the meeting. Of course, someone would have to accept their fate, but it would be their own fault for waking up so late or not looking up the directions beforehand. His heart sank as he noticed all the Nordics in a huddle, harsh whispering between them. Surely the whole world will soon know of the events that occurred the evening before. He searched for a distraction from the hushed gossip and nervous glances, and he found his thoughts drifting to the events of the previous day’s meeting:

 

~~~

 

     “What do you mean a human?”

     The barely-started world conference already had the first item to business just brought to their attentions by the ever-dutiful Germany. And it had _definitely_ caught their attentions. The entire stretching table peered around each other, looking to the stern nation for an explanation. Germany cleared his throat.

      “As we all know, the rules state that while interacting with human comrades is not prohibited, prolonged association with any individual is strongly discouraged. This is for the sake of preserving our identities as nations and maintaining national security. One example of a violation of this rule would be cohabitating with a human for an extended period of time. Now,” he inhaled. “I didn’t want to have to do this in front of everyone, but someone here has broken this rule. You know who you are. Shall I call you out, or are you willing to identify yourselves?”

      “Ah, yes, that would be me.”

      The entire world’s heads swiveled to the sudden speaker in absolute surprise. Norway sat calmly at his place setting, looking entirely unperturbed. The same couldn’t be said for Iceland next to him, whose face was in full flush and couldn’t make eye contact with anyone. Even Denmark’s cocky smirk was tainted with nervousness. Sweden and Finland, uncomfortably embarrassed, scooted to the side to avoid association. After an especially long period of silence, Norway looked about. “Well? Get on with it.”

      A hushed commotion broke out, whispers sounding, texts flying, and gossip being telephoned down the tables. Russia did nothing himself, the other countries much too skittish to exchange rumours with him, but he was rather intrigued. Norway was housing a human? How strange. He had always seemed like the rule-following type to Russia. What had brought this about? As he contemplated this new development, the conversations in the room grew louder.

     “You know of all the people in this room, I really didn’t expect _you_ to be the rulebreaker, Nor.”

     “Yes, well, people change.”

     “I didn’t think anyone would ever have the nerve to do such a thing nowadays.”

     “A human? It’s been awhile since I have talked to any non-nation. I should really get out more.”

     “ _We_ should get out more.”

     “Did Sweden and Finland have anything to do with this?”

     “N-no. I mean, we knew about it, and we met a couple times, we just didn’t--”

     “So, you’re sort of party to the crime too, huh?”

     “Mm. Leave m’ husband alone.”

     “So, how about Denmark?”

     “Aw yeah, man, I was totally involved.”

     “You know, it was really my fault,” Iceland grumbled. “I was the one who invited her to stay, after all.”

     “Whoa whoa whoa,” a _kesesesese_ sounded from across the table. “It’s a _she?!_ ”

     This prompted a whole new sort of commotion to burst out. Chatter was unrestrained now, shouts volleying back and across the table, and even Russia became a part of it as the excited nations beside him had to tell someone about their thoughts. Oh, the scandal of it all! This wasn’t going to go away very quickly at all, Russia could tell. He saw that Norway was thinking the same thing as the Scandinavian nation grasped the bridge of his nose. High-volume inquires ensued.

     “Is she cute?”

     “Where’s she from?”

     “What’s she like?”

     “Is she _cute??_ ”

 _I wonder if she’s nice_ , Russia pondered to himself as people shouted around him. He looked upon the Nordics, who were doing a good job of keeping strong, steady, and silent under the torrent of interrogations. _I bet she’s nice. Mr. Norway wouldn’t break the rules for an unkind girl_.

     “ _Silence!!_ ” Germany bellowed above the hubbub. After a few tumultuous moments the countries’ comments died down. Germany sighed, and then spoke while shuffling through his paperwork-covered place setting. “We’ve established the transgression. There shouldn’t be any punishment in order, I should think, as long as you move her out right away--”

     “No.”

     Germany looked up in surprise. “What?”

     “She’s staying. End of discussion.”

     This would’ve lit the fuse for another rumour rally but one cross look from Germany silenced all. “Norway, I’m afraid that’s not possible. It’s _against_ the _rules_ ,” he repeated with emphasis as if Norway just simply did not understand the words themselves.

     “Yeah, great, we know,” Iceland said, annoyed. His face burned from his sudden outburst, but he didn’t back down. “She’s staying, okay?”

     “But it’s--”

     “How did you find out, Mr. Germany?” Norway asked suddenly, his voice chilling subtly. Denmark glanced at him nervously. Norge had been on edge all morning, and it looked like poor Germany was about to become subject to some of the blizzard churning within the stoic nation.

     “Pardon?”

     “How did you find out? You must have met her, I’m guessing.”

     Germany blinked. “Well, I did--”

      “She must’ve struck up conversation with you, I bet. She’s such a friendly thing, there’s no doubt in my mind that she did that. And I bet she mentioned one of us and your recognised the name,” Norway nodded to himself. “That’s what happened. You found her quite friendly, didn’t you?”

     Germany shifted nervously. “Yes, she was very amiable. I enjoyed our chat.”

     A sharp light glinted in Norway’s eyes. “And you are expecting me to put such a fine, young lady out on the streets, hm?”

     Germany looked _very_ uncomfortable. “…It’s against the rules--”

     “I’ll tell you what,” Norway drew himself tall in his chair, folding his hands in front of him. “Our guest is in a very well-controlled environment where each one of us is _quite_ careful to make sure that nothing of our true identities is spilled.” His flat voice had taken on an icy quality. “She is perfectly unaware and unsuspecting, which is required that humans we interact with are. We are at a point in our relationship where kicking her out would create more risk than would allowing her to stay. So,” his dark eyes swept the room. “Rules or not, it is only _logical_ that she should be allowed to stay. In order to preserve our identities, of course.” He smiled flatly.

     “I will be cooperative with any other accommodations provided that _no one_ ,” his eyes narrowed dangerously. “I say, _no one_ , barring our _written persmission/i >, may seek her out. I don’t want any of you idiots corrupting or confusing her. U _nderstood_?”_

     The room nodded and murmured in slightly stunned assent, Russia included. Russia glumly thought to himself that the warning was directed mostly if not solely at himself. It was disappointing. Not that he thought they would let him otherwise, but he really wanted to meet this unknown person. At least avoiding her would be easy enough seeing as he had not only no idea of where the girl was, but absolutely no idea where anything in this city was. Russia couldn’t decide if he was gladdened or saddened, but there wasn’t any chance he could find her even if he tried.

 

~~~

 

     Russia sighed as he recalled these recent events that seemed all too far behind already. He had seriously messed up. He hadn’t even _meant_ to meet her, and now there was no chance of every seeing her again. Once the rest of the countries found out, he would be back on the shunning list again, with them glaring at him from every corner. He would hardly be able to go out to eat unwatched, let alone attempt to find Miss (Name) so he could at least apologise. And that was assuming that she even wanted to see him again, that she wasn’t now terrified at him after no-doubt hearing Norway’s horror stories. Well, he bit his lip nervously. If she _did_ want to see him again too, hopefully she would think of their time together yesterday. Leaving any sort of note would give him away, so he did the best he could to tell her that last night’s events hadn’t made her think ill of her. He had done the best he could. He sighed once again as Germany began the daily rollcall. _I wonder if she is having a good day._

 

~~~

 

     (Name) bet that Ivan was having a crappy day.

     Surely, he was. He was in the same business as the boys, after all, and since they had more business in the city today, he was probably working with them. Lukas definitely wasn’t in a good mood when they all left for work this morning. Not that he was ever in much a good mood, but there was definitely something menacing in his countenance today. Anyone who wanted to mess with him was going to have hell to pay. Emil had shot (Name) a quick glance this morning before following his brother out the front door. Their eyes had locked for just a moment, but she caught his drift: their conversation last night. It was her move. But how she could find Ivan? She had no leads, no place to search for him. All she knew of him was his name after all. She sighed for what must’ve been the thirtieth time that day. Hopefully, he didn’t think she was frightened of him after what happened.

     “Hey. (Name).”

     (Name) turned in her task of stacking boxes in the storage to see one of her trusted coworkers leaning against a spare book trolley. There was a concerned frown on her face. Oh dear. (Name) procured a small smile. “Good morning, Amira.”

     “What’s been up? You’ve been acting strangely.”

     This was true. The weight of the previous evening’s events was heavy on her, from her guilt of getting Ivan in trouble, to her anger at her housemates, and to her paralysed confusion as to what to do next. It rendered her absent in her interactions, slow in her work, and worn in demeanor. The lack of sleep didn’t help her attitude either. (Name) made an effort to brighten her smile. “Oh, I couldn’t get to sleep last night. You know how that goes.”

     “Well, yeah, I’ll buy that, but that’s not all of it. I know sleep deprived (Name), and she’s a lot peppier than this. It’s like someone sucked the life out of you.”

     “I’m fine, Amira. Really.”

     “Nuh-uh! I will find out what’s bothering you!”

     “See ya, Amira.” (Name) pushed her way out of the storeroom just in time to see another well-meaning face. “Oh, good morning, Cory. How’s your cold?”

     Cory smiled brightly. “Morning, (Name). Much better, thank you. Oh, uh,” he looked down sheepishly. “I heard that Manny made you shelve the new Russian shipment yesterday. I-I’m really sorry about that, that should’ve been my job.”

     Ivan’s smiling face flashed into her mind and her heart sank. “Oh, it was no trouble. It all turned out well enough. Besides, I needed practise with my Cyrillic anyways.”

     Cory glanced at you shyly. “Are you sure? I’d like to make it up to you.”

     “It’s really okay, Cory.”

     “Really? I could, um, take you out for coffee sometime or--”

     (Name’s) eyes absently drifted to the bundle of books wrapped in his arms. “Oh, are those Romanian?”

     He blinked. “Huh? Uh, yeah, I guess they are--”

     “You’re not so good with Romanian, right? I’ll take those off your hands if you take care of the stack of Greek things in the storeroom?”

     “Oh. Um, sure, okay.”

     He transferred the bundle to her arms and she gave him a small smile. “Thanks, Cory. See you around.”

     “Yeah, okay. See you.”

     It only took a few steps for (Name) to recede deep into her thoughts once again. Oh, what was she going to do? She really wanted to find Ivan, to find out why the others had acted that way, to find out the truth from somebody! But if Lukas found out, he would be enraged, and maybe so would Mathias too, and she wasn’t sure about Emil. He had encouraged her to decide for herself what to do, after all. And she wanted to find Ivan. But she had no way of even starting to search for him. Her spirit dulled as she passed by the Russian section on her way to Romanian. She saw the shelves she and Ivan had worked so hard on restoring. She didn’t even know if he _wanted_ to see her again. He had probably decided she wasn’t worth the trouble.

     Oh? She halted mid-stride. Having spent quite a long time restocking the shelves last night, the arrangement of the full bookcases was burned into her mind, and something was out of place! There was a single tome missing. Emil’s words from last night resurfaced. _Whether he wants to or not, Mr. Braginsky is going to steer clear for a while_. What if…what if he didn’t steer clear? He should, logically, but…what if he didn’t? Would that mean... Her breath caught in her throat. What if…

     Exactly three minutes later, she was wheezing and coughing her lungs out at the lines of cash registers. Sprinting down those four flights of stairs was a definite mistake. Not to mention she tripped down one and now certainly had a few deep bruises. She looked up from her panting to find Anna, a coworker who manned the registers regularly, staring at her in timid alarm. “Um, is everything okay, (Name)…?”

     “Fantastic,” (Name) responded shakily. She gulped. “Hey, do you think you could lend me today’s receipts for a few moments?”

     “Um, why do you--”

     “ _Please._ ”

     “Okay, okay, it must be important!” Anna ducked under the counter and thrust the sale records into (Name’s) hands, flustered. “Just, give them right back okay? I’m not sure you’re supposed to be looking at those, Manny would be angry!”

     “Right, right,” (Name) only murmured, eyes flying across the slips of paper presenting today’s customers. She flipped through the sheets erratically, anxiety wrecking her self-control. Finally, a strip of Cyrillic among the text caught her eyes.

\---The Emporium

\---6:03 3 October 20XX

\---Purchase:

\---ID465905 “Грех” по Прилепин, Захар  
\---ID465905 “Sin” by Prilepin, Zahkar

\--Subtotal: 262.77 kr  
\--Total: 262.77 kr

 

     (Name’s) eyes settled upon the signature at the bottom of the receipt, hands shaky. Her heart leapt. The name, it was…!

 

~~~

     Russia smiled to himself sadly as the tumult about him began. His gloved fingers reached to trace the edges of a brand-new book nestled comfortingly in his lap. _I hope that she is having a good day._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aiyaa, I have not been doing well. I thought I would've had the fifth chapter written by now and be able to update something, but alas. Life has not been entirely well, thought it is not as hell as it has been. Perhaps after I post this I'll be able to work more on it-- I've gotten to some rather tricky scenes and can't quite figure the direction, but perhaps I can pull it together. In about another week perhaps I'll post the already finished fourth here. I sort of forgot this place, so I apologise if anyone was actually waiting for this.
> 
> Oh, and they are in Norway, so the transaction is in Norwegian Krone. No tax, though. I have no idea how tax works-- in Norway or the US.
> 
>  
> 
> Originally finished 16 May 2015
> 
>  
> 
> EDIT: Holy shit for some reason the last two paragraphs had been deleted. So sorry if someone read this before I caught that.


	4. Found -- the fourth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ***EDIT 22 March 2017*** finally fixed the rest of that One Thing That Wasn't Important Anyway! Please enjoy <3

    (Name) had no idea what she was doing.

    It was just thirty seconds after her lunch break started, and normally she would be hounding down the tastiest deli this side of town or searching for a tiny café to nest in until duty called again, but today no such hunt was planned. Instead, (Name) was leaning noncommittally against the Emporium’s sturdy brick storefront, hands shoved deep in the pockets of her overcoat, looking more like the hunted than the hunter. People were staring so curiously at her, she must’ve looked like a stunned, lost rabbit. She wasn’t lost though. Only lost as to what to  _do._  She glanced at the paint-chipped fire hydrant that sat by her feet. (Name) always processed things better when saying them out loud as if someone was listening, and the hydrant seemed affable enough, so maybe he could be her listener today. She took a breath and began to softly review the situation to the two of them.

    Ivan wanted to see her again. That hadn’t sunk in yet, which was part of the problem. His signature had indeed been scrawled at the bottom of that receipt, meaning that this morning when the Emporium had barely just opened, he had taken the trouble to come over before his work, find a book they had shelved together, and purchase it. (Name) often tried to stave off possible disappointment by saying that it didn’t mean anything at all. Honestly, who would leave a receipt as a clue? He hadn’t any guarantee she would’ve found it. He must’ve just wanted something to read. But after the events of last night? No, Ivan had risked a lot coming anywhere near this bookstore. He had definitely done this to tell her that he hadn’t been scared off. This discovery was barely fifteen minutes old, so she hadn’t quite convinced herself of all that yet. But now it had time to sink in.  _Yes, he didn’t regret meeting me, Mister Fire Hydrant!_

    Of course, now that this confirmation was secured, (Name) had no freaking clue what to do next. She wanted to find Ivan, she knew that, but how to even _begin_  to search for him? All of Oslo was a possibility! It was easy enough for Ivan to leave her a sign; he knew where she worked, after all. But (Name) hadn’t a single way to reply and assure him that she, too, wasn’t afraid of him. The only thing she knew of Ivan was that he was in the same sort of business has her housemates. She didn’t even know if by ‘business’ they meant ‘vocation’ or ‘corporation’! Come to think of it, her friends had never disclosed to her the exact location that they worked at. It was rare that they left the house for anything that could be called work, so the omittance of such a detail wasn’t entirely surprising, although they did travel frequently to pursue some mysterious dark magic of a business. She remembered Lukas informing her some mornings earlier that, for some reason he would not specify, this week they would be someplace in the Sentrum Borough.

      Oh. Thank you, Mister Fire Hydrant.

    Assuming that, in this case, ‘business’ meant ‘corporation’ and not ‘vocation’, then it could be assured that Ivan would be somewhere in Sentrum, in the same building that her friends had hidden themselves away in. Or maybe (Name) was completely wrong, and he wasn’t there at all, but her capacity for error wasn’t what mattered. What mattered was that she got a move on her search, because her lunch break didn’t last forever. It was this driving factor that prodded her bid adieu to her neighbour the chipped-paint fire hydrant, and begin a steady trot down the walk. Hm, walking would get her nowhere with her time limit. She should catch a bus.

    It was about fifteen minutes before she hopped off the crimson-and-ebony bus with a hard start, sneakers slapping the gritty pavement. (Name) looked about her surroundings as if entering a new world. She didn’t visit this side of Oslo very often at all, not that it looked drastically different from any other part of the city, but she had touched down in the Bjørvika neighbourhood, where dozens of high-rising office buildings resided. In all honesty, she hadn’t the faintest clue as to what kind of work this ‘business’ dealt in, but she had seen Lukas’s desk when he had to stay up late at night, along with the stacks and safeboxes of documents that Emil and Mathias brought home from their travels. It seemed safe to assume that it was the sort of business that went on in office spaces, or at least would partake in meetings at such places. Starting in a white-collar rich place seemed logical. Besides, she had literally  _nothing_  else to go on, so might as well start there!

    For a few happy minutes she leisurely trekked down the sidewalks and crosswalks, falling into step with those milling around her, gazing curiously at her surroundings. The air was fresh today, crisp but not as chill as it had been, what with clear skies making way for a brilliant sun. Her eyes traced the skyline, marveling at the unique architecture. The buildings struck against the sky were only a few years old, and some Norwegians weren’t pleased that the construction project had gone through, but (Name) rather liked them. Most seemed to be built completely out of glass and mosaic, so that they reflected a kaleidoscope interpretation of the day. Clear days they blended into a turquoise sky, cloudy days they were monochrome masses, rainy days they wobbled and wept, and at sunset they were set completely ablaze.

    Through the pleasant buzz of jumbled musings, it suddenly struck her how futile her quest truly was. Even if (Name) knew which borough they were in, even if had an idea of what sort of area they might work in, there was no way to narrow her search down further from there. What was she going to do, waltz into the kiosk of each stately construct and inquire if a Lukas, Mathias, Emil or Ivan currently resided there? That seemed sort of sketchy. Well, it was  _definitely_  sketchy, and she didn’t want to draw much attention. Discretion was absolutely necessary; if Lukas and Mathias discovered that she was trying to find Ivan, she'd be so dead!

    (Name’s) heart sank. So she really couldn’t do anything. A small voice in her cried out that surely she could do this, find what she wanted, and she wanted to believe it. Her determination always got her through things like this. How else did she learn so many languages! It took a lot of effort and plowing right through difficulties, but this situation wasn’t one that could be solved with simply hard work. It was so frustrating! She didn’t want Ivan to be left feeling alone, especially after he took the risk of coming to the Emporium that morning! Dejectedly, she bought a sandwich off a street vendor. Her lunch break shouldn’t go  _completely_ to waste.

    (Name) used the time spent nibbling the cold deli sandwich to stroll up and down the streets, peering intensely at the concrete and brick walls as if they could confess to the secrets of the people they withheld. It was a fruitless endeavor, but she felt so restless giving up so early, she had to occupy herself with something. After pacing a single street several times, her sandwich had disappeared and she had little excuse to hang around any longer. With a sigh, she trudged back in the direction of the bus stop. To distract from her failure, she took the time to observe the diversity of the people around. People-watching was one of her favourite things to do. She was especially sure to keep her ears receptive of any strange speech patterns or out-of-place tongues. As a translator, she adored identifying and decoding dialects, accents, and languages foreign even to her, always keeping her ears open for something new to listen to. Of course, there really wasn’t much to hear here except for Norwegian, splattered with Danish accents and north-Germanic variations. That was alright. She still enjoyed the linguistic texture of a major city like this.

    Right as she stepped up to the bus stop a blip caught the edge of her auditory radar, a sound pattern unique from the rest of the crowd. She faltered, and instinctively backtracked several paces to put herself within range of the disturbance. Yes, just as she thought. Someone was speaking English. This was definitely nothing unusual, English being a sort of international language now, but she knew a borne English speaker from a Norwegian speaking English from a Dane speaking English from  _anyone_  speaking English, and this speaker… no,  _speakers_  were out of place. The accents tugging their vowels and sticking their consonants were not north-Germanic ones, and (Name) wasn’t about to leave without figuring out where they were from.

    (Name) couldn’t tell where exactly these people were walking, but she knew it was in the opposite direction of the bus stop, so she swiftly traveled that way in hopes of locating them.  Hmm, these accents were not unknown to her, but she didn’t hear them often. Not Romantic of origin, but not north-Germanic either. Actually, they weren’t Germanic at all. She almost pinpointed which individuals ahead of her were speaking…there were…three of them, conversing with each other, each with a unique accent. Okay, were they at least Indo-European in origin? Two of them were, yes, but the third…the third sounded almost like a Finn, but not quite. Estonian! They were from Estonia. Then it struck her that the other two, though different, were similar in their speech, so their tongues must be closely related. They were Slavic, she now realised. Balto-Slavic! They were Latvian and Lithuanian. She should’ve realised that sooner, she was quite skilled at those two tongues. With this mystery solved, (Name) felt a bit more at peace and quite a bit more accomplished, and began to regroup to the bus stop once again. Oslo was Norway’s capital, but she found it a mite strange that those three would be here, altogether and so obviously acquainted with one another. One usually found foreigners flocking to those of their own nationality, but those three were all from different countries, although neighbouring. It was sort of like how Emil, Lukas, and Mathias lived together even though they came from different nations, and how close friends they were with Mr. Oxenstierna and Mr. Väinämöinen…wait…

    (Name) stopped dead in her tracks. She looked back over her shoulder, eyes wide.

    She had no way of justifying her hunch at all, but this was something better explored and debunked than left unexplored with the possibility remaining. Once again, (Name) started back away from the bus stop, hurriedly pursuing the direction where the Baltic strangers had been heading, having to commit to a jog to catch back up. For five minutes, panic overtook her, fearing she had lost them. She had to find them! Taking a calming breath, she paused at the side of the walkway, closing her eyes and allowing her ears to open to all the sounds of the city, scanning for just a few particular speech patterns amidst the hubbub. It was only for a second, but an odd stretching of vowels caught her attention. On the other side of the street. 

    There.

    As immediately as the crosswalk would allow her, she traveled to the other side of the street and listened again to detect which direction to go down. Right, go right. Okay, great. She only had to jog a few paces to get within a proper listening range. Here was the tricky part; she had to close enough to eavesdrop on them effectively without getting so close as to be noticeable or suspicious. A college career of playing _Assassin’s Creed_ late into the night had prepared her for such this task of tailing a target unnoticed. She’d be damned if she failed.

    A few extra-long strides put her within eavesdropping distance. At first, (Name) had trouble establishing a steady, unassuming walking speed, and could only catch snatches of their conversation. After a few moments she got it down and carefully observed their backs. They were all three men, one with short-cut blond hair, another with longer, soft-looking brown locks, and the third was quite short, having to trot a few steps every once in a while to keep up. Each one appeared to be wearing a very nice business suit. They didn’t seem to be speaking of anything particularly interesting. Just normal work things. Sounds like they had just come out of a meeting and were discussing their coworkers’ attitudes and habits. Very normal stuff. (Name) was about to back off when something caught her ear.

    Lukas.

    Her heart leapt. They said Lukas! They had said that name! She was sure of it. Wasn’t she? Did she just imagine it? Immediately she sped back up, forcing all of her concentration fully on their conversation.

    “…Acting strangely? Really?”

    “Haven’t you noticed the Five today? They’ve been awful skittish this morning,” it was the brown-haired, Lithuanian one who spoke. “And Emil has been ignoring them much more intently than usual. I wonder if they had a fight recently. Eduard, do you know anything about it?”

    “Why are you asking me? I haven’t any idea!” the blond, Estonian one said indignantly.

    “But you’re always wanting to be a Nordic, maybe you would know all about them…” the smaller Latvian mumbled.

    The Estonian ignored the comment. “But shouldn’t that be normal? Emil is a growing boy, after all, and it’s bound to get tense in their house sometimes, those three living together. Plus that woman, whoever she is.”

    “I really wish we could meet her. I bet she’s real nice.”

    “Ah, but it’s against the rules enough that she’s living with them. You saw Ludwig’s fit. An exception shouldn’t be made for us. I do wish Lukas would be less catty about it though…”

    (Name) was practically shaking from nerves and exhilaration. They knew Lukas, they knew Emil! They must know Ivan as well! But who on earth were they, these people that knew even that someone was living with the three Nordic men. Hey, wait, why did they know that? And what’s this about rules? And Ludwig? So wrapped up in her excitement, (Name) just about walked straight into a street lamp, barely managing to catch herself against it. She looked about, bewildered. Where had the Baltic trio gone? The three caught her eye as they disappeared into a building. In fact, it was one of the buildings that made up the skyline, made of impenetrable glass impossible to see in. Did they  _work_  here? 

    Before she could do anything else she noted the street sign and address plate, then whipped out her pocket notebook and both down along with a quick sketch of the building for she knew that no matter how much she promised herself she would remember, she would forget. This was too important to risk that. Somewhere down the street a clock struck the hour. She froze. How long had she been out here…? Halfway to sprinting to the nearest bus stop, she resigned to hailing a taxi to avoid and extra thirty minutes over her shift time. Oh, man, Manny was going to kill her…

     

~~~     

 

    Russia was sure that the Nordics were going to kill him. All through the morning meeting he could feel their eyes on him, glaring daggers and axes and worse. The three Vikings had regained their murderous passions from centuries ago, and Finland’s frightening strength that Russia knew all too well had returned.  Except Iceland’s gaze was missing. In the one glance he allowed himself over there, the boy appeared to be texting under the table, and his big brother was too preoccupied to chastise him for it. Strange, though. Wasn’t Iceland practically (Name’s) best friend? He wasn’t very worked up about last night at all. Wondering wouldn’t do anything about it though, so he had made an absurd effort to remain focused on the mind-numbing meeting. 

    Finally, they broke for lunch. While nearly all the other nations took to the streets of Oslo to grab a bite to eat, Russia adjourned to the break room. No one else had even bothered to check in it, so he had an entire pile of stale bagels and crumbling muffins to himself to feast on. For some reason, he wasn’t quite hungry. He stared forlornly at the fresh, unread book. _For some reason_. At least he was alone now. 

    The door eased open. Of course, he wasn’t quite that lucky. “Hello, Lukas. Mathias.”

    “What happened yesterday was inexcusable.”

     “Straight to the point. Okay, I can deal.” Russia nodded to himself thoughtfully, pressing a sequence on the coffee maker. He had no idea how to work that thing. 

    “We set down rules. You broke them. You didn’t even have the decency to do it discreetly, you did it the day that the warnings were given!”

    Russia poured himself a mug. “Like how you were very discreet in your discontent this morning?”

    “We could’ve called you out,” Denmark growled. “The whole world would’ve known what you did.”

    “ _I_ don’t even know what I did.” 

    “Shut up. You know what that would’ve done to you? But we didn’t, Russia.”

    “Ah, yes. How kind of you.”

    “Look,” Norway slammed his hands down on the table. A bagel rolled away. “We’ll be merciful as long as nothing like this happens ever again. I’ve told Sweden and Finland not to mind this, too.”

    “Ah, yes, I am curious about that,” he turned to look at them, leaning against the counter casually. “I am surprised those two know about this at all. If you cannot even trust your guest to walk themselves to work, how do you trust anyone who doesn't live in your house? Are the people you are close with close only because of the leash you keep them on? ”

    Norway’s jaw worked. “What we do is none of your business.”

    “And what I do is yours?” Russia knew he was on thin ice here. He didn’t want to sound threatening; he just wanted them to leave him alone. Why did they have to bother him so? It was an accident. It had been an accident! Well, this morning wasn’t an accident, he admitted to himself, nervously glancing at his book on the table.

     “It is if it interferes with us. Ignoring our warnings is rash, even for you!”

    “It was an accident,  _Norvegiya_.” Russia replied tiredly, raising his beverage to his lips. The coffee/vodka ratio was a bit weak, but definitely better than nothing. “How else could I find her other by accident?”

    “You have ways, I’m sure.” Norway’s face was dark.

    “Ways I wouldn’t waste on one girl. Too much trouble. ”

    “ _Look_ , all that we’re saying is that as long as  _nothing_  like this happens ever again, we’ll forget about it!” Denmark roughly grabbed Russia by collar of his jacket. Russia looked bored. “Lukas and I spent a  _lot_  of time talking it over, and we’d figured we’d give you the chance to back off, although I’m not so sure now. But I know that you  _won’t_  get to make her another Lithuania.”

    Something snapped in Russia. He shoved the Dane off him with one arm. Denmark stumbled back to where Norway steadied him, their eyes glinting in a moment of fear. It was the fear that snapped Russia out of it. He sighed and passed a hand over his face. It had happened that easily? He must be really stressed. “Thank you for speaking to me. I am done with this conversation now. Good bye.” He got up to leave when Denmark’s eyes flashed suddenly. Russia followed his gaze.  _Derrmo,_  he had seen the book on the table. Was the Emporium’s sticker still on it? 

     “What is  _that_ \--”

     Russia immediately snatched it up and tucked it under his arm. He pushed past them, making his way from the break room quickly. “It’s a book. It’s where one keeps words. _Germaniya_ will be furious if you’re late to your own meeting. Good bye.”

    That was quite close, Russia thought as the door swung shut behind me. He nearly lost it there, and they nearly saw that the book was from (Name’s) work! The latter was careless on his part, but the former…why would they mention that? Just why? He passed a hand over his face again. It didn’t help that he was constantly worrying about (Name). How was she? What was she thinking? He sighed. No use thinking about it now. It only made him more on edge. He needed more rest. Maybe he could leave early today…

     

    ~~~  


    “You’re leaving  _already?!”_

    (Name) glanced over her should as she secured the buttons of her heather grey overcoat. Cory was gaping at her, nervously checking his watch just to make sure he wasn’t going crazy. (Name) smiled sheepishly. “Yeah, I have things to do today.”

    “(Name), you came back from lunch forty-five minutes late! You would be lucky to get off the hook even if you worked two hours overtime today!”

    (Name) snorted. “For every one of my shifts since I’ve been hired, I’ve shown up early, did more than what I was supposed to do, and finished hours late. Manny can get over  _one day_  of minor attendance issues."

    “He’ll kill you, (Name). What were you doing, anyways?”

    “Top secret operations! Can’t disclose the details, national security and all that.” She laughed at Cory’s horrified expression. “But I do have big things to do! Tell the Man it couldn’t be helped.” She glanced at the wall clock for the umpteenth time. This morning’s ritual had been plagued by silent treatment, but Mathias, self-conscious for once, had tried to make some sort of conversation. He ended up talking to himself, but (Name) had noted that he had mentioned that they would be working late that day. This provided a pleasant window of opportunity for her do some sleuthing, but she still decided to leave twenty minutes early from work to be safe. “If I don’t get going, he’s not the only one who’s gonna blow a stack over this. Gotta go!”

    “(Name)--”

    “See ya, Cory!” She flashed him a coy smile, slipped from the break room, and made a mad dash for the entrance. She didn’t want Manny noticing her leave so early, otherwise he would lecture her angrily for half an hour at least. Although she’d be in trouble whether he caught her then or not. Tomorrow he was going to give her  _hell_.

    Twenty-five minutes later, (Name’s) sneakers slapped the pavement of Sentrum as the crimson-and-ebony bus puttered away. It was the same spot she had touched down earlier that day, but it struck her suddenly that since she actually knew her destination this time, she should’ve hopped off at a nearer spot. Oh well. She doubted that it would’ve saved her much time in traffic  _this_  thick. And walking always helped her thought process anyways. She needed a plan of attack.

    Wariness was key. Even if it ended up that Ivan didn’t work there, Lukas and Mathias still did, and she had to be careful that they didn’t find out what she was up to. Maybe she should even be cautious of Emil, as well. He  _had_  encouraged her to do something about this situation, but he didn’t approve of Ivan, he just agreed that the others were being jerks about the whole matter. Hm. Sometimes it was hard to tell how that boy felt.

    She couldn’t worry about that now, though. She needed to focus on her strategy. And (Name’s) strategy was…surprisingly unexciting. Since the entrance was guarded by security guards and you most likely needed ID, the only thing she could really do was stake it out and study the people exiting the building. She didn’t mind it at all since the city provided lots of details to distract her flighty mind while she waited, but she was a bit worried about just staying near the entrance. They’d definitely notice her if she was nearby, or if they looked out the window and saw her loitering below. Maybe if she watched from across the street, where the walk was especially congested. Sounds enough like a plan. But maybe she would walk around first, since she was so jittery for some reason. She had some time. 

    As she strolled down the walk, (Name) struggled to maintain a reasonable speed. All of a sudden, she was very, extremely excited. She had found where Ivan worked! Well, possibly worked, but that wasn’t the point. The point was that she made progress after having nothing to go on, and the impact of her lucky success didn’t have time to sink in before since she was so rushed. Now her heart sped up considerably at the prospect of meeting him again, letting him know that things were okay, that she wasn’t afraid of him. (Name) was practically skipping now, breaking into a trot occasionally, hurriedly brushing past pedestrians. She was  _much_ too excited. Her heart thumped in her chest, leaping up to her throat, and she became too excited to deal with saying hello to the strangers around her, to check the buzzing phone in her pocket, to watch where she was going--

    (Name) quickly turned the corner in her excitement and ran smack into some poor person. She reeled back a bit with the impact, blinking, and was about to apologise profusely, when her eyes focused on who she had collided with.

    It was Mathias. And Lukas was at his side. 

     The three just stared at each other for a few bewildered moments. Thoughts ran disorganised in (Name’s) brain. Why were they here? Hey, she was right about where they worked! Oh wait, she’d have to explain to them why she was here. Uhh, she came to meet them after work? Wait, she wasn’t supposed to know where they worked. She was just walking through town after work? No, this place was way too far from her work to just be part of a stroll. Plus, there weren’t even any shops around. She didn’t have any business here. Yup, she was screwed. 

     The two men recovered from the shock, and they did  _not_  look pleased. Mathias’s arms were crossed menacingly, and Lukas’s eyes had narrowed to dangerous slits. (Name) gulped and said the only thing she could think of to say.

    “…I thought you said you would be working late.”

    “We were let out early. A discussion item was rescheduled to tomorrow.” 

    In her shock, she just blinked and looked all about, eventually looking across the street to see Emil shaking his head in disbelief. He held up his phone and pointed to it. Her pocket buzzed. Numbly, she drew her cellphone and unlocked it. There were two messages.

 

::::: **17:54**  
:::::Contact:  **Emmy**  
:::::Text Message Start:

      ** _Heads up heads up heads up heads up!!_**

:::::End Message.

    --

 ::::: **17:56**  
 :::::Contact:  **Emmy**  
 :::::Text Message Start:

       **You are _so_  busted.**

 :::::End Message.

     

    (Name) looked back up, turning between Mathias and Lukas repeatedly before finally sighing and shoving her hands in her pockets. There was nothing she could say to really redeem herself here, so she might as well state what was on her mind. “Well, _shit_.”   


~~~     

     

    Someone watched from high up in a high-rise as the arguments broke out below. The Dane and the Norwegian became so intense in their speaking that eventually the Icelander sprinted across the street to stand up in defence for his friend, bringing his Hong Konger friend along. The person made no move to deflect the accusations. She just stood silently, perfectly content with what was happening. But none of that really mattered to the person watching. Only one thing stood out to him.

    Ivan’s hand shakily rose to his mouth as he choked back a sob. 

    (Name) had come for him.

     

    ~~~  


    Lithuania groaned at Germany’s announcement that they were now dismissed to lunch break. He massaged the back of his neck, trying to work out the painful knots. They never seemed to meet anywhere with good chairs. It always took a huge toll on his back and neck, which were tense from stress anyways. Was he the only one who suffered from this? Maybe he should propose that they could only meet in rooms that Sweden had furnished. Ikea had some really ergonomic stuff.

    “Hey, you ready to head out?”

    Lithuania looked to the side to see Estonia and Latvia, already in wait for him. He smiled. “Yeah.”

    He walked with his friends, stepping out of the modern high-riser after a long elevator ride, but he quickly began to trail behind. Lithuania was preoccupied. Not only that, but he was preoccupied with others’ preoccupations. Taking on others’ burdens had always been a bad habit of his, but it’s not like he could help it after all these years.

    Estonia and Latvia chatted unaware while Lithuania followed absentmindedly. The Nordics had definitely been out of sorts lately. The first day they seemed fine enough, asides from the whole commotion over how they had broken the rules. The second day they were certainly agitated, but they did good jobs of making it seem like nothing was amiss. But this morning, they were practically  _seething_. Emil was even more standoffish than usual, making a point to text  _above_  the table, which irked his brother even more. Lithuania had thought it was just a fight, but Norway never brought domestic matters to meetings. So why was he so irritated?

    He had also noticed a great aggravation aimed towards Mr. Russia, sensed through passive-aggressive gestures and glances. He had always been good at picking up on these things (unfortunately). Anyone being mad at Mr. Russia wasn’t much of surprise, as he often earned the anger for good reason, but there had been nothing in the news, and no other nation was annoyed. Just the Nordics. Actually it was mostly just Denmark and Norway. And Mr. Russia seemed aware of it, looking exceptionally worn and tired this week. Lithuania felt a pang in his chest, and chastised himself for such sympathy. Every told him not to worry himself with any of Mr. Russia’s matters anymore, that he was free from the oppression, and he was free, he knew that.  But Lithuania had never been free from worry, his or anyone else’s, and Mr. Russia was deeply troubled. He wished he could mention this to his dear friends, but with Estonia so protective and Poland so needy, he couldn’t ever mention his name around them without an outburst. He appreciate their concern, and Russia was indeed dangerous still. But Mr. Russia, as a person, was—

    Lithuania was jolted from his anxiety when he ran into Estonia’s back. Blinking in confusion, he saw his two comrades stuck in place in the middle of the sidewalk. He opened his mouth to inquire why they had halted, but the reason was made apparent as his eyes made their way to the path in front of them.

    A young woman stood in front of them, hands shoved deep in her grey overcoat, feet planted in a wide stance. Determination burned bright in her eyes, sweeping across all three of them. Before any of them could ask what was the matter, she drew a deep breath and opened her mouth.

    “My name is (Name)(Surname). I need to talk to you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> " WOW this turned out a lot longer than planned.
> 
> But Val, why are the countries meeting in the Barcode constructs instead of in Oslo’s government buildings? To be less conspicuous, of course! These people can’t congregate around important sites all the time! Val, that is a pretty half-assed reason shut up it’s okay it works
> 
> My strategy to fixing plotholes is not to ignore them or patch it up, but to directly address it for all the world to see. Gotta confuse ‘em all!
> 
> In this part’s outline, there was a note scrawled that specifically commanded me to not research real-life Oslo locations to base where they worked. GUESS WHAT HAPPENED. "
> 
> Anyways, enjoy. I know these are so old and I'm so depressed and can't write but I'm working on it.
> 
>  
> 
> Originally published 8 June 2015.


	5. Memories -- the Fifth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> holy fuck guys I know you've only been without chapter for a couple months, but they were reposted from dA. It's been over a year since I have written for this series, and here it is. I have fought through hell (and several depression bouts and losing of chapter notes) to bring this to you. please enjoy, please comment, oh my goodness I hope you like it.

            This was a mistake

            (Name) realized that the very moment she stepped out in front of the Baltic gentlemen and the two parties made eye contact, when she felt that she was just as taken aback as they were. This is what she had decided she needed to do, but just like that all confidence vanished and was replaced with petrifying terror.  She must’ve looked crazy, frozen in the middle of the walk, arms slightly raised out at her sides to block their path. She hadn’t a plan, and it occurred briefly to her how reckless she had become in the last few days. After a few moments, the one in the middle, who spoke with a Lithuanian lilt, echoed her request.

            “You need to talk to us?”     

            The tallest one wearing glasses, the Estonian, rolled his eyes and sighed through his nose. “Look, we’re sorry, but we’re not buying whatever you’re selling. We need to be on our way now, excuse us.

            “Wh-what?” They began to push past her as she stood frozen. “N-no!” (Name) stumbled back and drew herself up taller. “I’m not selling anything! I honestly need to talk to you! You three, uh, I,” there was a lump stuck in her throat, but this confrontation would go nowhere with the level of discretion that she should probably be keeping. She couldn’t get in more trouble than she did last night, so might as well do what was needed. She exhaled through her nose and then looked them straight in the eyes. “I am (Name) (Surname),” she extended her hand firmly. “I need some explanations, and I know you three can give them to me.”        

            The men stared at her hand curiously, as if it were alien. “Um, is that name supposed to mean anything, Miss--”

            Time to take the shot. “I’m the woman that’s living in Mr. Lukas’s house.”

            “Oh. Oh! _Oh!!”_ the two taller men jerked back in horror and gaped at each other, trying to get some words out. “Um, uh, Miss, we’re really not supposed to be, uh, _talking_ to you—“     

            “Oh gosh, it’s so nice to meet you, Miss!” The short Latvian man with the puppy face took her hand and shook it gently, beaming sweetly. His friends looked on in complete terror. “Oh, your hands are real soft. How nice. I’ve wanted to meet you. We’ve all been wondering who the lady living with N--” the Lithuanian, still conversing brokenly with his spectacled friend, gasped loudly and kicked the Latvian’s leg. “— _Lukas_ could be! Oh gosh, you seem just as nice as I imagined you! I’m Raivis Galante. These are--”

            “R-raivis!” The Lithuanian intoned cheerily, voice quavering, and slapped a hand on the small man’s shoulder. The Estonian stumbled forward as well, standing to the side and was either praying or cursing at Raivis. “You _know_ we’re really not supposed to be talking to her, you know what _Mr. Bondevik_ said, he’ll--”

            Raivis looked back at his friends and blinked. “Are you not going to introduce yourselves? That’s rude.”

            “Rai, that really isn’t the _point_ \--”

            “I’m excited to meet her, aren’t you? We’re so lucky we just ran into her like this! With all this talk and rumours and all, I’d like to see what she’s really like. I bet she’s nice though, I mean, but what could of person would be allowed to live in Nor--”

            The Estonian slid between (Name) and his friends and spread out his arms, putting on his least nervous grimace and least tremourous voice. “Miss, I’m sorry, we’re going to have to be on our way, we have important business to get to--”

            “Oh, _nuh-uh!_ ” (Name’s) hand darted out and secured itself onto his wrist. He looked very surprised and a little frightened, and even the Lithuanian and Raivis paused to look at her in shock. “I have worked _too hard_ to get to this point, and have screwed up _way_ too much to back out now,” her voice was sharp and commanding. “I _know_ something is going on,” the two men gulped together. Raivis had a look of epiphany. “I do not know _what_ is going on, but I have gathered enough to know that Mr. Lukas doesn’t have the best attitude in approach to this subject. If he finds out about this—which, let’s be honest, he probably will—I will be taking full responsibility. And believe me, if he won’t give responsibility to me,” she looked them hard in the eyes. “ _I will take it_.”

            There was a stunned silence between them as the city coursed around. “…Miss, I just don’t--”

            “We can talk about it over lunch. It’s on me.”

            Raivis perked up. “Oo, free food." 

            The Estonian opened and closed his mouth several times then looked despairingly at the other who was still holding Raivis. The Lithuanian looked to himself, then back up and whispered quietly, “At this point, it wouldn’t do any more harm to talk with her a while.”

            He stared a moment longer, sighed deeply, and turned back to (Name), defeated. “Fine. Lead the way." 

            (Name) let out a breath she hadn’t realized she had been holding, and shakily released his wrist. “O-okay, um, where would you three like to eat…?”

 

 

~~~

 

 

            Ten minutes later, the four of them were seated indoors at a pleasant little deli-café the three men had agreed on after some anxious debate. Their small round table was right by an open window, a crisp breeze neutralized by the sun it carried in. Bumblebees still bobbed along the blossoms in the flowerbox, for it was a very mild autumn day in Oslo. By noon they found that it had become a bit warm, and their discarded jackets hung lopsided on the back of their chairs. The company of them sat uncomfortably and used the food in front of them as a device to evade the stiff-backed apprehension for the topic at hand. Raivis was the only one clearly enjoying himself, savouring the sandwich (Name) had ordered for him, watching the bumblebees dreamily.

            (Name) swallowed a bite of sandwich, took a breath, and looked up with a smile to address them as friendly as possible. “Um, I said I would like to talk to you three, but, uh,” the three looked at her expectantly. “I...did not ask of your names.”

            The Lithuanian gasped. “Oh my goodness, I’m so sorry! I completely forgot!”

            “I told you it’s rude not to introduce yourselves,” Raivis muttered around a mouthful of fries.

           "Oh, be quiet,” the Estonian hissed at him and regained his composure to stare at her steely-eyed. “If you must know, I am Eduard Von Bock, and this here is Toris Laurinaitus.” Toris nodded amiably. “And since _someone_ has decided to spill an awful lot of information--” Raivis was remorseless. Actually, it was difficult to tell if he was paying attention. “--I suppose it’s not too harmful to tell you that I’m from--” 

           “Estonia,” (Name) interrupted. “And Lithuania and Latvia. The Baltic countries, right?”

            Raivis was paying attention now. Toris and Eduard exchanged uncomfortable looks. Toris smiled quietly. “Y-yes. We are--from the Baltic states.”

           “Is… is that still an acceptable term?”

           “Oh!” Lithuania laughed quietly. “Probably not. Old habits die hard, I suppose.”

           “Yes,” Estonia and Latvia murmured. No one spoke for a long time. A waiter came by and took Raivis’s plate, replacing it with a tall fudge sundae. Eduard gave him a dirty look, but Raivis only shrugged and muttered something about how she _said_ she was paying, and happily began on his dessert.

           While everyone was still comfortable over their sandwiches, (Name) took the opportunity to prepare to stumble all over her words. “I, uh, thank all of you for coming out with me. Even if you can’t help me at all, I really appreciate it.”

           “Oh, of course!” Raivis piped up.  
  
           “If you do not mind, I have some questions for you. Earlier, I gathered from Mr. Galante—”

           “She called me mister! Isn’t that nice?”

           “…That there have been some _rumours_ about me? Anyone care to elaborate?”

            Raivis opened his mouth, but Toris slapped a hand over it just in time. “I-is there perhaps another topic we could lead with? I m-mean, not to say that we won’t tell you this, but—”

            “I still think this is nonsense,” Eduard cut in, huffing. “As a Nordic representative, I should mention that my fellow Nordics would be _furious_ to know that this was taking place.”

            (Name) stared at him blankly. “Um…Estonia is not a Nordic.”

            “Well, _perhaps_ ,” he replied a little hotly. “But it _should_ be.

            (Name) gave him a look. “Except it really _shouldn’t_ , though.”

            He pushed out his chair and began to rise. “Well, it’s been very nice talking to you Miss (Surname) but we have to go—”

            Toris made a frustrated noise in his throat and slapped a hand on his coworker’s shoulder, pressing him to reseat himself. “Calm down, Eduard, she means no harm, and we should still listen to her.” 

            “Why should I? Listen to this _girl_ speak of something _she’s never heard about_ and _hardly educated about at all_ , she doesn’t know the relationship I have with Tino—”

            (Name) felt her ears grow hot. “Ebaviisakas.”

            “She doesn’t—” Eduard paused in his protests. His face turned pale. “…Vabandust?”

            “ _Ebaviisakas_.” She repeated, coldly.

            His eyes widened and his face grew even paler, then suddenly turned very red. He sat down and folded his hands in his lap.

             She gave him a pointed stare. “Right then. Now that we have that out of the way, let’s begin at the baseline,” (Name) gulped down a slice of salmon. “Now, I’ve gathered that inquiring such is useless, but I’ll ask anyways; What is this ‘business’ of yours?”

            Eduard made an exasperated noise in his throat. “It’s none of your business.”

            “Except it sort of _is_ ,” (Name) replied sharply, surprising him again. “My friends are keeping things from me in order to manipulate my decisions, which is not healthy or acceptable in _any_ circumstance. I don’t want to leave them, so I’m going to try to fix this before I have to, and for that I need answers. Now _what_ on _earth_ is this blasted business everyone is so secretive about!”

            “ _None of your—_ ”

            “It’s very important,” Toris said, quietly, taking a small bite of his sandwich. He looked up to her with a small smile, kind and apologetic. “It’s an…international business. With lots of meetings between everyone." 

            (Name) exhaled, trying to curb her rising temper. At least this man seemed less hard-headed. “Thank you. I gathered that, from the people of separate nationalities, like my friends. And like you three,” she said pointedly, eyes narrowing.

            “We need a diverse staff,” he conceded, evading the question there. “It heavily relies on representatives of many different cultures.

            “Wouldn’t it need several representatives of a single country though? One person can’t be perfectly balanced to represent an entire culture, even if it were a small country. And why _live_ together? I mean it’s great being friends with coworkers, but that’s suspicious. And Lukas and Emil are brothers, how and why did they get the same job? Everything just seems so sketchy!”

            “Ah, uh, that’s rather a lot of information to give.”

            (Name) blinked and sighed, readjusting to her initial relaxed position. She had been leaning across the table aggressively without realizing it. “Sorry…I can get excitable. Please understand how frustrating this all is for me. I mean, I’ve been fine with not knowing what they’re up to, even if they do come home too late sometimes or are gone too much oftentimes. But…they’ve become so…” her brow creased. Toris looked up at her. “… _scary_. I’ve never seen them like this before, and I’ve been living with them for the better part of a year. Ever since a couple days ago, with Mr. Braginsky—”

            There was a bang and glass shards scattered. (Name) yelped and clutched at her arms. Toris had dropped his glass. There was tea all over him, but he didn’t seem to notice, just stared at her with a blank realization. Waiters rushed over to sweep up the mess. A waitress set down a second sundae in front of Raivis, but none of them moved.

            “What did you say?” Eduard’s voice was low and monotone

            (Name) was startled mute. She gathered some of her senses. “…Since, um…I met this man called Ivan B-braginsky….M-Mr. Laurinaitus, are you okay…?” 

            “Called it,” Raivis said quietly.

            “S…sorry,” Toris murmured, then smiled sheepishly. “I mean, that makes sense, I’m not surprised. The Five have been so agitated for the past couple days, and Mr. R…Ivan, has been so…well, I don’t know what he’s been,” his laugh was nervous and he hurriedly mopped himself up with some extra napkins. “But he’s not his self. I’ve been worrying.” 

            “Toris, don’t worry at all for him,” Eduard scolded, but his voice was softer with anxiety. “He’s not part of your life anymore. He’s not your responsibility. You shouldn’t think about him ever.”

            “I can’t help but worry, can’t I?” 

            (Name) looked between them. She felt as if this was the most progress she’s made, but suddenly she felt that she’d rather not find out any more. “You…from what I’ve gathered, no one has a good history with Mr. Braginsky,” she ventured tentatively. “Would that include you three?” 

            “Yes, _especially_ us three,” Eduard snapped at her.

            “Eduard,” Toris touched his friend’s shoulder very gently, and turned to (Name), still smiling kindly. “Perhaps you could tell us why Mr. Bondevik is angry, Miss? I think some explanation on both sides might be best, considering how tense we all are,” he nodded to himself. (Name) could see him breathing. Using breathing exercises. She often used those too. Seeing him use them made her throat tighten.

            She smoothed out the napkin on her lap self-consciously. “Yes, I think you’re right. Most simply, I guess I met this man called Ivan Braginsky a couple nights ago, completely by accident. He was a customer where I work, see. Then Lukas, Mathias, and Emil showed up like they often do at the end of my shift, saw him, and totally freaked out. No explanation.” She looked from face to face. “They say that Mr. Braginsky is dangerous. But won’t tell me why. Even Emil, who is neutral on this whole ordeal, says he feels nervous about letting me around him.”

            There was a pause while they pondered this. “It’s true what our friends say,” Toris said slowly, suddenly quite weary. “I can’t really diverge too much information. But,” he teased the button on his shirt cuff, “I don’t think he can hurt anyone anymore.”

            “Can I ask what do you mean by that?”

            “It doesn’t matter,” Eduard said hastily. “You trust Lukas, don’t you? You don’t need to know anything about Mr. Braginsky.”

            “He’s very tall,” Raivis commented absentmindedly, slipping a spoonful of ice cream into his mouth. “And has exceptionally large boots.”

            Toris continued the conversation while Eduard just stared incredulously at Raivis. “Not to encourage anything, but I have noticed that Mr. Braginsky hasn’t seemed to be doing well. If you want a second opinion. It’s been bothering me recently,” he sighed to himself. “I do wish I could fix him.” 

            Eduard huffed. “I’m not sorry for him. Whatever he gets, he deserves.”

            Toris exhaled roughly. “Eduard, _please_ \--”

            “Pardon me, have you _forgotten_ what happened?" 

            “Frankly, I’d _like_ to forget, and it’s no one’s business but my _own_!”

            “No, it’s not! It involves _you_ , it involves all of us!”

            “Just let it _go_ , it was a long time ago.”

            “The scars haven’t faded, Lee.”

            “You’re right, they haven’t. For _either_ of us. Not _me_ , and not _him_.”

            “ _That doesn’t make it--”_  

            “ _Hey_.”

            Eduard’s jerked back in surprise. Him and Lithuania turned to their left. Latvia was sitting straight up, suddenly very present and glaring hard with his wide, glassy eyes straight at Estonia. “ _P_ _ā_ _rtraukt.”_

            Estonia blinked dazedly, looking at Latvia, looking to Lithuania, and saw that his dear friend was shrunken before him, the subtle tremors he had learned to recognise of Lithuania that long time ago happening again. He saw suddenly that he was picking at the cuticles of his scarred fingers. They were bleeding again. He remembered when Lithuania did these things, and he saw that it was now, and Estonia realized how loud his own voice had become, and sat back in his seat, looked at his hands and could not speak for a very long time.

            Raivis was normal again. His eyes wandered, his voice wondered. “Norwegian food is very delicious, Miss (Surname). It was very nice of you to invite us.”

            “Yes,” (Name) said faintly. “My treat.”

 

  

~~~

 

 

            Lunch was finished. The three representatives needed to return to their work, and (Name) knew she was long tardy on her lunchbreak. They left the deli, pausing outside while the men put on their suit jackets again, brushing off crumbs and breathing the fresh air. Toris seemed back to normal, gentle and without any worry on his face, though Eduard still wasn’t saying anything. (Name), too, had been quiet for a very long time, and as Eduard fussed over a mustard stain on Raivis’s suit, she stood beside Toris. 

            “Hey,” she said, quietly. “I’m sorry to ask this now, but do you hate Ivan?”

            “Oh, I don’t know,” he laughed weakly. “Hating takes an awful lot of energy, don’t you think? 

            (Name) looked at him and his smiling face for a long while. “Um…Mr, Mr. Laurinaitis?”

            “Oh, call me Toris, please. Misters are always so stiff. Not that I’m not,” He laughed again, working the muscles on the back of his neck. “Thank you for lunch again, by the way. I’m sorry we couldn’t help more.”

            “No problem. I’m,” she breathed. “I’m sorry for prying about Mr. Braginsky.”

            His eyebrows lifted in surprise. “It’s okay, you needed to know.”

            “ _No,_ I _didn’t_ , that’s the thing,” she had startled Toris again. “Sorry. I mean, I’m just now realising how much bigger than me this is, which is really embarrassing because usually I’m really good about this sort of stuff. I didn’t even _think_ about what sort of memories this would bring about for everyone--”

            “Miss (Surname)--”

            “Call me (Name). It was so inconsiderate of me. I was so caught up in the drama that’s happening in my life that is mostly my fault anyways, I didn’t even think about anyone else and what trouble I’ve caused them and _you_ , and I realized I stirred up some horrible, _horrible_ memories for you and that’s inexcusable. I’m so sorry I caused you pain.”

            “(Name)--”

            “I don’t know what I’m going to do about all this that’s happening, but I want you to know that whatever I do doesn’t make what happened between you and Mr. Braginsky okay, or make what he did okay, and it doesn’t have to _feel_ okay even, it’s just that,” she huffed in annoyance at herself, and burst out: “Everyone deserves kindness!”

            “Yes. Absolutely." 

            (Name), surprised looked up at him. His face was serious, and his eyes more determined than she had ever seen them.

            “I absolutely agree.”

            She took a breath and maintained the gaze, saying the next phrase carefully, as strong as she could. “But that kindness doesn’t have to come from you.”

            His eyes faltered. “What--”

            “Some things aren’t going to be okay. And that’s okay. They don’t…they don’t have to. You have to get your kindness, too.

            He just stared at her.

            “I don’t know what happened but I know that you don’t need any more guilt. He’ll get his kindness, just please take care of yourself Mister—Toris.” She paused and bowed in gratitude. “Have a good rest of your day.”

            Toris did not say a word. He could not. And (Name) hoped she had helped more than hurt. Eduard sensed the distress and came to relieve them of the situation, thanking her for the meal not gratefully but not coldly, which was an improvement. He steered his speechless friend away, speaking to him gently. Raivis trailed after them idly. They were returning to the place of secrets, where her friends and housemates were, where her that man Ivan Braginsky was, where there were things she could not possibly know. She chewed her cheek. Raivis’s suit was russet-coloured, an old and friendly material. (Name) grabbed his sleeve. He looked back at her, curious, as his camarades ventured ahead. 

            <<Uh, hey,>> she said, in Latvian, <<Could we talk later?>>

            Raivis didn’t miss a beat. <<Can I have ice cream again?>>

 

 

~~~

 

 

            “Thanks for the sundae, Miss (Surname).”

            “Oh, no need to thank me. You sure Toris and Eduard won’t miss you?”

            It was evening nearing night, long after (Name’s) shift, and long after the dismissal of the strange, secretive meetings. (Name) knew that the boys would be back at the house by now, and that Lukas and Mathias would be angry and wondering where she was. Of course they had texted her, but she was sick of Lukas’s salt and reminded herself that she had a life of her own. And to remind _them_ , she left the read receipts _on_. Hopefully Emil had enough snacks cached in his room for what was sure to be a stressful night.

            Now, away from home, she and Raivis walked side-by-side, treading the edges of a city park’s path lit only by streetlamp. He held a cup of ice cream, double scoops, and an aura of simple joy. (Name) had her hands in her pockets and her gaze linking together falling leaves. Raivis had made a game of avoiding treading upon the shriveled leaves on the ground. After a while, she realised that he had been copying her own feet.

            “Hm,” Raivis tilted his head and thought. “If they notice, Toris will freak out a spend forever looking for me, and then Eduard will get angry and when I get back I will be yelled at and then I’ll probably cry.”

            “…Oh.”

            “That’s only if they notice me though. They’ve boarded flights and flown halfway around the without noticing I wasn’t with them before, so I should be fine.”

            “You know, you didn’t have to come.”

            “I have ice cream Miss (Surname). Ice cream is important,” he hopped up onto the little raised brick lining the flowerbeds, walking the edge like a tightrope walker, like a child, watching his swinging steps carefully as he ate his ice cream. (Name) decided she liked Raivis quite a lot. “It’s your own time you’re wasting. I can’t really tell you much. You wasted a bribe.”

            “Oh, don’t worry. Buying ice cream is a worthy no matter the cause. And if I am to be honest and bit hasty, you seem lovely and wonderful and I wanted to talk with you even if we couldn’t speak about the business.”

            Raivis stopped on the wall suddenly, and stared at her with his wide eyes. His faced slowly lit to a beam. “Oh, you’re just how I thought you’d be! It’s no wonder Mr. Bondevik let you stay with them! Would you like some of my ice cream?" 

            (Name) laughed. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but no thank you.”

            “You like ice cream?” 

            “Like it? It’s my favourite, hands down.”

            He brightened even more. “What’s your favourite flavour?”

            She grinned back at him. “I’ll eat any kind! Oh, but my favourite---you know, in my home town, there’s this shop that has the best flavours ever. They had all kinds, and special flavours every month, too.”

            His eyes blinked wide. “Really?”

            “Yeah, and it wasn’t cheap stuff. Like it was _good_ ice cream, _good_ ingredients. There’s this one with—I don’t know, some sort of chocolate, toffee, caramel base? I don’t recall the flavour of the ice cream itself. But there’s crunchy chocolate clusters and crushed graham cracker bits throughout it,

            “Crushed graham cracker? Really? Doesn’t it taste weird?”

            “It sounds like it’d be gross and sandy, but it’s in little clumps and it’s like if sand was _soft_ and _delicious_ and made of _joy_. It makes the texture so _lovely_ and you feel like you’ve found gold every time you chomp down on a cluster, and it’s the _best_!”

            “Gosh!! That sounds great!! I wish I could try it!”

            (Name) giggled regaining her senses a bit, only a little embarrassed. “Well, if you’re ever there, I’ll give you directions.”

             “Gosh, you know, even though Lukas is the one in trouble, he would be so angry if he knew I was here.”

             She frowned a bit, gears shifting at his sudden comment. He hadn’t said it with any less excitement, though. “I know that. I’m sorry I’ve troubled you, and I promise I won’t tell him at all.”

             “Maybe he’ll turn me into a toad!" 

            “…What?”

            “I might like that, it might be very lovely to be a toad. Just sitting around. Hop-hop. I might get eaten. By an eagle!” his eyes were faded as she noticed they often were, going someplace else as this legs swung rhythmically on the edge of the flower gardens. “A lumpy little toad, eaten by an eagle with two heads. Rip, rip, from two directions. There goes a leg! An arm!” he made little jumps onto the cracks of the brick tiles. “Little…lumpy…toad.”

            “Raivis, are you okay?”

            “I didn’t have it as rough. Not like Liet. Toris, I mean. We all used to live with Mr. Braginsky, you know. Us three. I might be a little shorter than before but I turned out fine. I mean, not really, but neither did Mr. Braginsky.” 

            “Raivis, you don’t have to--”

            “I have anxiety, you know. Do you have it, too?  It gets really bad and sometimes I go places instead of staying here. I wake up screaming, and it’s not even about him sometimes. Mr. Braginsky wasn’t so nice, you know, not back then. Not that he is now, but now he isn’t nice or un-nice.”

            (Name) had stopped walking at this point. She watched him venture onward on the brick tightrope, his voice across all the park. “…Raivis--" 

            “And I know why Liet is worried. Mr. Braginsky isn’t un-nice any more, and that’s terrible, because he did such bad, bad things, and now he is so, so sad. His sadness doesn’t stop. We three pretend not to see. Because, well, we used to live with him, and he was so un-nice. But that’s very, _very_ un-nice of us. Un-nice everywhere.” His arms gestured out, then his entire body flinched and he drew back in again.

            “He’s so, so sad. Who’s going to do something about it? Not us, not us three, that’s for sure,” a sing-song voice punctuated with solid steps. “Not—a--thing.”

            He stopped his tight-rope walking wobbling at the end of the wall. He suddenly turned to look at her. His eyes were returned, and looked ashamed and very small. “Thank you for the ice cream, Miss (Surname).”

            “...It’s no problem, Mr. Galante.”

            “Can I talk to you about the meetings instead?”

           “If you like, Raivis. Want another scoop of ice cream?”

           “No thank you, (Name). Did you know my favourite flavour is turtle sundae?” He hopped down a little dizzily, and floated over to a bench, sitting down. She sat down beside him, carefully. Making sure not to touch him accidentally. He stared ahead for a long time, breathing carefully, before smiling again and digging back into his ice cream. There was a lot left still. “There’s lots of people in the meetings.”

            She smiled, a little relieved. “Not just representatives from this area?”

            “Nope. We work apart mostly, but we all meet together once in a while. It’s a big one this time, with most everyone. Sometimes we meet with just some. None of us get along very well. Sometimes it’s so bad nothing really gets done.”

            (Name) thought about the living conditions of her household and laughed. “Oh, I can imagine!”

            “Oh yeah, you’ve got Lukas and Mathias with you. They’re infamous. And they’re some of the better couples we have!” He groaned, only half in jest. “We all talk about a lot of things. There are lots of boring presentations, and we all give little updates. I don’t like it because I have to stand up and talk _all by myself_ in front of _everyone_ , even if it’s just at my chair. Last time I had to, I was across from Neth—this guy, his name is Lars, and he just looks really unimpressed all the time and is really tall, and he was starting into my soul, and it’s double bad because it was impossible to focus, because he was smoking his pipe and we have a no smoking policy indoors! It’s ridiculous! I think I stopped speaking actual words and Ludwig made me sit down.”

            It was the worst situation imaginable, especially for someone with anxiety, but she was still laughing. “That sounds terrible!” 

            He was laughing too. “It was! Oh, yeah, and Ludwig! Even if it’s not in his country, Ludwig near always runs the meetings. He said he met you.”

            The image of a tall man wandering lost amongst Romance languages in the Emporium four days prior entered her mind. He had shocking blue eyes and said that he was looking for a manual on the social behaviours of Italians. “Mr...Beilschmidt?”

            “Uh-huh. And he said you got to talking and stuff and he heard Lukas and Mathias and Emil and put pieces together. And, you know, we’re not really supposed to live with normal people, so they got in trouble in front of _everyone_ and now we’re all wondering who you could be. I’m so lucky to meet you. Germany should be more grateful that he got to meet you too. You’re so nice.”

            He sat swinging his legs and cradling his ice cream bowl, staring dreamily in space. Suddenly, he gasped and twisted to her violently. “Oh, I m-meant _M-Mr. Beilschmidt_! We call each other by our nationalities sometimes,” Latvia chattered suddenly. “Makes things easier for everyone else, sometimes it’s really hard to memorise all those names that we can’t even p-pronounce, you know, I mean like, you know…” he laughed nervously, losing the rest of his thoughts to search for approval on her face.

            He found none. She just stared at him, long and hard. Looking sad. “…Is that really true, Raivis?”

            Latvia chuckled uneasily, turning to gaze down at the remains of his ice cream. “Germany is very tall.”

 

 

~~~

 

 

            Lithuania was in bed, at the hotel the countries were staying at, their rooms and basic costs paid for by the host. There weren’t any lights on, and the air buzzed with that cold, silent hum all hotels have. Normally it would’ve bothered him, normally he would be curled up in a ball without Estonia and Latvia, clutching at the sheets and the small plushie Poland had got him, but he wasn’t tonight. Tonight he lay on his back, staring at the ceiling too dark to see, thinking. This was a dangerous pastime for Lithuania, but his eyes were hard and determined. He was thinking about tomorrow. He thought and thought, and then, finally, he made a decision. He smiled, faintly, and fell asleep.

_Tomorrow will be interesting._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, there is a lot I could say here, but that would be another 3000 words so let's not do that and just say how happy I am I completed this. I'm not sure how this chapter turned out, but I'm glad it happened and whoof, I have a renewed perspective on my own story. Goodness. But Latvia was so much fun to write! I had most of his lines done even before I knew what was even going to happen in the scenes. We’re pretty similar, so I often used his dialogue to springboard ideas.
> 
> Also, to refrain from raising my stress levels further, I forbid myself from researching common Norwegian foods and restaurant practices, so there are most likely inaccuracies. And that Estonian and Latvian is def Google Translate sorry not sorry actually I’m so sorry I’m a shameful linguist.
> 
> On the meeting of Germany:  
> In Thinking of You (chapter three), during the flashback of the first morning meeting, Norway mentions that Germany must’ve found out because he had run into (Name) and she mentioned several of the Nordics’ human names, which Germany confirms. Their interaction is not written in this series or any other, but if you’re wondering, Germany was at the Emporium to purchase a manual on how to detect social hints and decipher behavioural patterns of Italians. (Name) was very helpful in the process of finding the right one, and also recommended a light Italian culture guide for cross-referencing. Germany left so pleased with the whole experience, he actually forgot he had to address the issue of cohabitation until the day after, which was the day before the meetings began.
> 
>  
> 
> Okay I might add more notes later I'm just really eager to publish this now. gah! I'm so happy!


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